Too Close
by Crowdreamer
Summary: Post "Twenty-Four" and "Let Her Go." E/O, angst. Tension between Elliot and Olivia grows due to stressful events, and it reaches a peak when Elliot commits an unthinkable act in anger. Growing ever more despondent, Olivia takes extreme measures to alleviate her pain, and ends up trapped in the last place she ever wanted to be, using her final bit of resilience to free herself
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Comments: **__So, the producers of SVU have been tormenting us with pictures of props and locations and little tweets hinting at heinous things that are happening right now to Benson (they are filming "Surrender Benson" this week). I am so tortured by this, in fact, that I feel the need to torture Benson myself. Which leads me to my version of Season 15, episode 5 (the first story counted as a two-parter)._

_ A few recaps from __**Twenty-Four **__and __**Let Her Go**__: After Lewis horribly rapes and tortures Olivia and kills Brian in front of her, Elliot returns and helps her recover, and their relationship develops into something more serious. Along comes Alex, who rips Olivia away from Elliot for a short time, but Olivia returns to Elliot, repentant but still sad about having to give up Alex. _

_ Olivia and Elliot are both on edge in this story—Olivia from losing so many people in such a short time span, along with PTSD from her rape/torture, and Elliot from divorcing his wife and feeling insecure after Olivia left him, even though it was for a short time. So how will this emotional turmoil affect their relationship? You're about to find out._

_ This one's not so nice—lots of angst, and plenty of tension between E&O. Also, if you've followed me for a while, you know I have a thing for psych wards, so I reintroduced one in this story (the last one I did for SVU sucked, so I took it down a while ago). I also have a thing for basements, teehee…_

**Too Close**

Chapter One

Part 1.

A bead of sweat ran down Olivia's temple and splattered onto the concrete below. Gun drawn, she steadied herself, preparing to charge into the abandoned warehouse, now used as a makeshift meth lab. Granted, she was not alone—uni's and members of the Drug Task Force surrounded her, readying to take down any members of a drug-dealing ring found in the place.

Olivia, along with several other SVU detectives, had their own agenda. A rumor had surfaced that Craig Hoffman, a man suspected of raping three separate teenagers, hung out with this particular gang, and may be present in the building. Olivia inhaled deeply, shifting her feet several times, anxious to get going. She caught a glimpse of Elliot out of the corner of her eye, his expression all business.

Fin flanked her on the right, and Nick followed behind her. "Go, go, go!" came the command from ahead, and she hesitated for just a second before Nick crowded her, pushing her forward with his momentum. She passed by several drugged-out meth-heads scattered about the dark room, already covered by armed uniforms. She passed through to the rear of the house, ducking to the side of a door before peeking in and then springing forward, gun drawn.

It was a kitchen, and she was the first person in. Seeing nobody, she pressed on, gun held straight out, beads of sweat pooling around the edge of her hair. As she continued toward the back of the room, her pulse raced so quickly that she found it hard to breathe. She had been in tense situations before, it was true. But ever since Lewis had damaged her body and her soul, it had taken extra courage for her to make it through moments like this.

She gritted her teeth as she came to a small enclosed porch off the back of the kitchen. Glancing back, she spotted Elliot coming up quick, Fin close behind him. As she skirted into the back room, she glanced to her left into blackness, and then to the right as movement caught her eye. Something came down hard on her hand, knocking the gun out of her hands. As it clattered onto the floor, the face before her became clear—it was Hoffman's.

"Liv, you okay?" said Elliot's voice behind her. Before she could react, Hoffman brought the weapon down toward her again, and she used her arm to block, grabbing onto it as she did. The cold, hard object in her hand registered, and she flinched as she realized it was a fireplace poker. Visions of Lewis holding a poker just like it flashed through her mind's eye, and she shook her head, still holding onto the item.

Her body froze, perplexed by the thing. Lewis had used the very same weapon to terrorize her—black, shiny, just the right size to rape someone. Only hers had been heated on the stove until it glowed. She threw it away from her as if it had burned her hand and backed up into the wall, solid behind her. "Liv?" said Fin's voice. "Liv!"

She looked up at him, not sure how he had gotten in here so fast. And then she looked around the room to see that they were the only two in it. She shook her head and said, "Where's Hoffman? And Elliot?"

"Ran out the back," he said, concern flooding his eyes. "You okay?"

She nodded curtly and said, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I—"

But she couldn't tell him what had gone down, because she couldn't remember. Elliot burst in through the back door, saying, "What the hell happened?"

Standing with his face in hers, he said, "You had him! How did you let him get away? What the fuck was that?"

"Easy, Stabler," Fin said, putting up a protective hand to hold Elliot away from her.

"I—I don't know—" she said, staring into his angry face.

Elliot ran a hand over his whiskered chin and turned away from her, pacing the floor like an angry bull. "That was our best chance of catching him," he said. "The guy's a phantom."

Eyes still drawn to Olivia's distraught face, Fin said, "Don't worry, we'll get him."

Olivia turned and scurried out of the house the way she had come in, hearing bits and pieces of Elliot and Fin arguing as she retreated. She wiped a tear from her cheek and entered the night air, sucking in huge breaths of it into her eager lungs. Bending over like a runner finishing a marathon, she rested her hands on her knees and replayed the events that had just happened over and over again until she wanted to throw up.

Part 2.

Elliot knew after it was all over that he had been too hard on her. In the two weeks since she had come back to live with him, he had been inexplicably irritated and moody, and he had not stopped to examine the possible reasons behind it. But he knew it had to do with the fact that she had not hesitated to engage in a fling with Alex, which must mean that she no longer viewed him as her hero.

Instead, he was probably just a safety net for her. He had helped her back on her feet when she had needed someone the most, and it infuriated him that she had thrown all that away due to out-of-control hormones, like some teenage girl. He had never thought he would need a commitment out of her, but he guessed that the fact she could just up and leave him for someone else at any time was the cause of his emotional unrest.

Now he glared at her as she sat at her desk, absorbed in her computer monitor. He should just forgive her. But she had let a rapist go, and he was having a hard time letting go of that tidbit. He got up and headed toward her, and then walked right past her to the elevator without saying a word. Done for the day, he made his way to a hole-in-the-wall bar he frequented when he was out-of-sorts. In the past, he would have visited maybe once a week, but lately he had become something of a regular.

"Elliot, what can I get you?" said Frank, the bartender.

"I'll have the usual," he said, as Frank poured him a bourbon straight up. The hot liquid burned his throat as it slid down, simultaneously burning away images of Olivia's wounded expression after he had chewed her out.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Comments: **__I had someone comment on "Let Her Go", saying they didn't see how I could possibly think that Olivia loves Elliot for real on the show, and that they had a strictly "brother-sister" relationship. So I thought it would be fun to play a little game, join in if you feel like it—I want to start naming all the hints that the show has dropped over the years that would lead us EO'ers to believe these two have romantic feelings for one another._

_ Here are three off the top of my head—1. Kathy Griffin's character commented in "P.C." that "Stabler totally has the hots for you." 2. Olivia was jealous of Dani, and especially when Elliot stood close to her. 3. Kathy told Olivia she always worried that Elliot might cheat with Olivia._

_ What are some others? I think if the producers (and even the actors) hadn't dropped so many "hints", we wouldn't be getting these ideas._

**Too Close**

Chapter Two

Part 1.

Olivia stayed at work late, burying herself in new case files to forget about Elliot's anger. Two hours after he left, she rubbed her eyes as Amanda passed by her desk. "Need a ride home?" said the younger blonde, her forehead wrinkled in concern.

Normally, Olivia would decline. The chill night air helped her clear away the stress of the day even on ordinary shifts. But tonight she thought the company might keep her from the wash of emotions threatening to flood her. "Yeah," she said, "I'd like that."

As soon as they got in the car though, Olivia thought it might have been a mistake to accept, as Amanda said, "You know, Liv, nobody else blames you for what happened tonight. It happens."

Olivia sighed. She had hoped she wouldn't have to talk about this again. "It didn't just happen," she said. "I froze. I saw the fireplace poker and I couldn't move."

Amanda's mouth clamped shut as she realized what Olivia was saying. Then her jaw went slack, and she said, "I'm not trying to pry, Liv, but are you getting help?"

Olivia ran a hand through her hair and said quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, but that doesn't stop the flashbacks. Or the bouts of shaking for no reason, or the nightmares."

Amanda nodded once and didn't say anything else, apparently unable to provide any words of wisdom. They pulled up in front of Elliot's building, and Olivia said, "Thanks for the ride, Amanda."

"No problem." As Olivia made her way to the other side of the car on her way to the door, Amanda got out. Olivia shot her a curious look, and Amanda said, "Hey, Liv, I'm pulling for you, okay. If you need anything . . ."

Amanda ever so slightly reached out a hand, and Olivia held it in hers for a second and put on a smile for her friend. Then she turned toward the building and sighed, entering the code to let herself into the building.

As soon as she opened the front door of the apartment, Elliot got up from the couch where he had been sitting in his underwear. He glared at her silently, and the muscles in her arms and legs tensed up in response. She tried to ignore him, setting her keys on the table and getting out a glass to pour some water, but his eyes followed her everywhere, until she said, "What?"

"Amanda brought you home?" he said.

"Yeah," she said curtly, not in the mood for his irritated tone. "You were watching me out the window?"

Ignoring her question, he said, "So, do I have to worry about you and her now?"

She brought the cup down hard on the counter, staring straight ahead. "Of course not," she said.

He planted his muscular frame next to her, and that made her feel trapped. But she stood still while he said, "Well how am I supposed to know who's going to be the next experiment?"

Now she turned to face him, steeling herself. "Have you been drinking again?"

"Wow. Way to change the subject," he said, and now she thought she detected the hint of a slur in his words.

"Well, I'm not having this conversation while you're drunk," she said, and tried to brush past him.

But he stopped her with his arm and stared her down, his lowered eyebrows a threat. Her breaths came out in tight little puffs, and she looked down at the triceps barring her way and said, "Let me past."

For a few seconds, she thought he was going to trap her in the tiny space within the kitchen, and her arms began to turn to jelly. She trusted him not to hurt her. She thought she did, anyway—he was not the type to beat up on a woman. But her traumatized mind could not distinguish between a real threat and an intimidating action just for show, and she didn't want to know what would happen if she ever snapped when her brain could no longer tell the difference.

But he complied finally, putting his arm down, and she padded into the bedroom, hoping he wouldn't follow her tonight. She wrapped herself tightly in a blanket and waited, listening for every sound from the other room. After hours of hyper vigilance, he never came, and she transitioned into an uneasy sleep.

Part 2.

The pale sun snapped her from her sleep, and she rubbed her eyes, stumbling into the kitchen for coffee. For the first time in weeks, he was not gone yet, and he sat reading his phone while slurping from his cup. He glanced up at her when she slinked toward the kitchen, and his face softened. "How'd you sleep?" he ventured.

"Like crap," she said, trying to act nonchalant even though her shoulders relaxed at the thought that he didn't sound angry.

"Me too," he said gently. She poured her morning caffeine and sat next to him, sipping tiny bits of it while wondering how this conversation was going to go, since he seemed to have woken up less of a grizzly and more of a teddy.

"Look, Liv," he said. "I'm . . . sorry. I don't even remember much about last night, but I know I wasn't exactly Mr. Congeniality."

"No, you weren't," she said, trying to avoid looking him in the eye. If he was willing to apologize, she was at least going to rub in the fact that he was in the wrong last night.

He drank the last few drops and got up to take his cup to the sink, saying, "So, what exactly _did _I say last night?"

She relived their conversation in her mind, and then smiled, saying, "You were jealous of Amanda."

She caught him snickering secretly while he turned toward her, and he came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. All the tension drained from her head to her feet and out onto the floor. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly," he said. "You wouldn't do that."

His fingers stopped moving for a second, and he said, "Would you?"

Olivia smiled and said, "She is really pretty." Her eyes widened as she realized it probably wasn't the smartest thing to say right now. She glanced up at his face to see that he had taken it as a joke, just as she had meant it. She chuckled, saying, "Not as pretty as you, though."

Now he caressed the top of her arm, and she purred to herself, closing her eyes to absorb the full effect of his gesture of reconciliation. He sat down next to her and pulled her hand into his, saying, "Please be patient with me, Liv. I'm still trying to work through all this."

She relaxed her mouth and nodded her head. "Okay, I'll try," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Comments: **__C'mon, where are all the rest of my EO'ers to back me up? Just to be clear, I never said that Olivia actually slept with him on the show. I said she had feelings for him, that she loved him. She didn't act on those feelings out of respect for Kathy, but you can bet that if his wife ever did divorce him, Olivia would jump his bones in a heartbeat. Brother/sister, my ass. She would totally tap that, lol. Even Mariska said they had "chemistry" right from the get-go. You don't say that about a family member._

_ O.M.G. I think September is never going to get here. Anyone been following the tweets and pictures from the SVU production team? I am a ball of nerves—__**Save Benson!**_

**Too Close**

Chapter Three

Part 1.

As the week marched on, Olivia developed an uneasy truce with Elliot—he observed her from a distance but left her alone, and she kept her nose down and didn't even pretend to flirt with anyone from work. She thought maybe she could prove to him that she had no interest in anyone but him, and he would relax.

By Friday, she had gotten so wrapped up in her routine that she had almost forgotten all about their troubles earlier in the week. Almost. Because, although he was friendly to her most days, and civil on others, he still came home after midnight most nights, after working late or hitting the bar. Not much time was left for connecting with her, but she consoled herself with the fact that at least he wasn't starting crap with her.

"Liv, you ready to go pick up our suspect?" said Nick, just before the elevator doors opened and deposited a tired and possibly hung-over Elliot onto the floor.

"Yeah, let's go get him," she said, scooting her seat out to stand.

Nick lifted her jacket to help her find the arms, and Elliot looked at them for a little too long. She ignored him, smiling at Nick and whispering, "Thanks."

"Hey," said Nick, "I'm going out with Rollins and Fin after work tonight for drinks, you wanna come?"

"I don't know," said Olivia, conscious of the fact that Elliot was now within earshot, but not wanting to be controlled by his jealousy. "We'll see if I'm still up for it at the end of the day—it's been an exhausting week."

Elliot brushed past her and stumbled to his desk. She thought she smelled a hint of alcohol on him, and wondered if he had already thrown back one or two this morning. Shaking her head, she fumbled around for her keys and bumped her desk, knocking a folder and all its contents on the floor. "Son of a—"

"Here, let me help you get that," said Nick, kneeling beside her. As he shuffled papers from the floor, Olivia was aware of Elliot's eyes boring a hole into her back.

Nick reached across in front of her to pick up a paper, and Elliot's chair scraped across the floor. Nick stood and held his hand out to help her up, and she accepted. When she stood, Elliot was in her space, crowding her with his presence. They glared at each other while Nick watched, perplexed, until Elliot turned his attention toward the junior detective.

Nick lowered his eyebrows and said, "What?"

Elliot rubbed a hand over his face. "You might want to slow your horses, cowboy," he said, and pointed to Olivia. "This one's a little too wild to rope into the corral."

Nick cocked his head to the side and said, "What the fuck are you talking about, Stabler? Speak English."

Elliot stepped out of Olivia's circle of comfort and into Nick's face. "I'm saying, it's better for all of us to keep a clean workplace by not mixing business with pleasure. So keep it in your pants, is all."

Nick steadied himself, unflinching, and said, "You got a lot of nerve, Stabler. What's your fucking problem?"

Olivia started to grab Elliot's arm to pull him back, but he jerked it out of her hands. "I don't have a problem. I'm just saying—I'm watching you."

Nick's mouth fell open, and he said, "What? You're a real piece of work, Stabler. You know that?"

Olivia strode past Elliot and said, "Forget it, Nick. He's on the rag or something. It's not worth it. Let's go."

"No, I'm not—" started Nick, staring Elliot down. Glimpsing Olivia's pleading face, he stopped himself and shot one last glare at Elliot before turning away. "You need help, man," he mumbled as he walked away.

Part 2.

In the car, the tension piled up so thick that Olivia thought it would take a miracle to find words to cut through it. Nick broke through while driving, saying, "Something going on between you and Elliot I should know about?"

Olivia sighed, debating how much to tell him. On the one hand, she wanted to build trust with her partner by sharing details about her personal life. And yet, she knew that nothing but trouble could come out of revealing the fact that their relationship had evolved way beyond playing card games on a Saturday night. She shook her head, saying, "He's angry at me for letting our perp get away—"

"This is about more than just a hump," said Nick.

"And, I think he's a little jealous that I'm not partnered with him anymore."

Nick paused, and then said, "Do you think he's mad that I didn't invite him to go out for drinks?"

Olivia stifled a laugh. She couldn't imagine a more awkward scenario than the three of them chumming it up at a bar. "Nah," she said. "He's on edge lately. He'll get over it."

Part 3.

That night, she worked late to avoid hanging out with the gang from work. She hoped it wouldn't be too obvious that she wasn't going because she feared Elliot's reaction.

She expected to come home to an empty apartment, but was surprised when the lights were on as she entered. She stopped, hairs standing up on the back of her neck, even though she knew the likelihood that someone could penetrate this place was next to none due to the superior security in the building. But she had been fooled into a false sense of safety once before, and it had led to the worst of all possible consequences.

She finally breathed again when Elliot stepped out of the shadows in the living room. "Did you go out?" he asked.

Noticing a half-empty bottle of rum sitting on the coffee table, she said, "No. You decide to stay home to drink tonight?"

He took a few steps toward her and said, "Heck yeah. Let's bring on the party right here."

She frowned at him, saying, "That was a stupid move you pulled on Nick today."

She had not noticed the shot glass in his hand, but now he brought it to his lips and downed it in one fell swoop. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he said, "He'll get over it."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Elliot," she said. "Do you not care anymore if they send us to different units? Because I don't know about you, but I don't want to leave SVU."

"I care more about him fawning over you," he said, his words slurring.

Olivia pursed her lips. She was about tired of this angry drunk routine. "Elliot, you have got to get over this," she said. "What I did was wrong. But it does not give you an excuse to watch over me like a possessive asshole."

"Asshole," he said, folding his arms. "I'm an asshole?"

"Yes," she said, keeping her voice steady. "And you're drinking way too much lately."

He sniffed, his shoulder twitching. "Okay, now Miss Independent is going to tell me what to do. Mind your own business, Liv."

Her mouth fell open, and her voice rose as she said, "Mind _my _own business? You guard me like you own me, but I'm supposed to let you do whatever the fuck you want, even if it means trampling my dignity into the ground?"

He stood solid, rolling his eyes away from her, but she was not done with him yet. "You better back the fuck off and start giving me some space."

His eyebrows shot up. "I gave you space. But if you're going to stay with me . . ." His lips formed a thin line. "You know what? You want space, fine."

He picked up her shoes off the ground and hurled them against the door, and then looked around for more of her stuff to throw. Seeing none, he pointed to the door. "Take your shit and leave," he said, moving his face to within inches of hers.

Seeing only ugliness and hatred in his eyes now, she shouted at him, "You are impossible, Elliot Stabler. No wonder Kathy left you."

The two of them froze, and then his knuckles flew up to meet her jaw so fast that she had no time to react. The alcohol must have blocked any inhibition, because the contact was hard enough to knock her backward, almost to her feet. She brought a hand up to rub her tender mouth, and recoiled when she saw fresh blood on her fingers. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as the idea that someone she loved so much could have actually done such a thing.

It only took a second for the shock to wear off and her animal instincts to take over, and she charged him, arms flying. His eyes grew round as she aimed blow after blow at him, only to be blocked by his flailing arms. Just now she heard the primal scream coming from her own throat, a battle cry that she could not seem to shut off. Unable to reach his head with her fists, surprised by his superior strength and speed even while drunk, she went for a painful ambush and brought her knee up to his groin.

He bent over for a few seconds, grabbing at his crotch, his mouth open in anguish. And then he stood and came at her, spitting through clenched teeth, "Bitch!" His hand wrapped around her throat and he pushed her back until she slammed against a wall. She clawed at his fingers, gasping for breath but unable to find it as his hand tightened around her esophagus.

The room seemed to close in, and she couldn't tell whether it was because she was losing consciousness or if it was just panic. Unable to speak, she tried to wordlessly plead with him through her eyes, but his were wild like a carnivore taking down a kill. And then his hand softened, and he slowly pulled it away, fear flashing in his eyes and dissipating quickly as he turned away from her.

He gulped deep breaths as if he was the one who had been choked, and said, "I'm out of here." Grabbing his jacket, he left without a further glance in her direction, leaving her alone to figure out how control had vanished so quickly and left her in the grips of chaos.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Comments: **__Yeah, I had forgotten all about Infiltrated, where she keep saying Elliot's name in her sleep. Sisters don't do that, lol. Ew, that would be gross._

**Too Close**

Chapter Four

Part 1.

Her back still against the wall, Olivia slid to the floor and sat in a heap, her mind blank. Her skin was warm, but her insides were like an iceberg unable to thaw, and she shivered uncontrollably. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there when someone knocked on the door.

Startled, she stared at it for a minute before getting up to answer it. "Amanda?" she said, trying to keep her voice from quivering.

But she could tell from the wrinkles on Amanda's forehead that she knew something was amiss. "Olivia, I—" she began, and then cleared her throat. "I heard a call on the radio—a report of domestic violence, and then I heard the address. I thought maybe I should be the one to respond . . ."

Amanda studied Olivia's throat from a distance and said, "Can I come in?"

The moment had a surreal ring to it, and it took Olivia a moment before she shook off her trance and said, "Sure. Yeah, sure."

She stepped aside for Amanda, who cast an extra-long glance at her face while passing by her. Olivia closed her eyes and moved her body to a kitchen chair on automatic, numb from the neck down. In fact, the only part of herself she could feel was her cheek, which was probably swollen from Elliot's fist imprinting onto it.

"Liv," said Amanda, snapping her out of her stupor, "What happened here tonight?"

Olivia's brain scrambled for a cover story, but that would require that she think straight, and she was having trouble thinking at all. "I, uh—I fell. Hit my face on the, uh—the door knob."

Amanda stared at her in dumbfounded silence, and then said, "Come on, Liv. We both know there's more to it. You have red marks around your neck, some of them shaped like fingers." Olivia's hand flew up to her neck instinctively, and Amanda said, "And neighbors reported yelling. Loud banging, and then a scream."

Olivia studied her hands on the table in front of her. _Victim of domestic violence_. She would have bet her life that she would never end up with those words attached to a file with her name at the top. And who did a cop call when another cop was beating up on her? She would not have him arrested—she knew that much.

She caught herself chewing on her fingernail and pulled it away, biting her lip instead. "Liv?" Amanda prompted her.

"Elliot was drunk," Olivia said. "He's been moody and jealous ever since me and Alex—"

"Alex . . . Cabot?" Amanda said, her eyes opening wide.

Olivia nodded. Her eyes met Amanda's as she said, "He's never done anything like this before. I don't think he would ever intentionally—"

"C'mon Liv, whether he meant to or not, he did it." She paused, and said, "What are you going to do about it?"

"I—to tell you the truth, I haven't thought that far in advance yet."

Amanda stood to move next to Olivia. "May I?" she said, holding her hand under Olivia's chin. Olivia nodded, and Amanda used her finger to gently lift her jaw and examine her neck. She winced, saying, "He could have killed you, Liv."

Olivia pulled her head away from Amanda and said, "I can't charge him for this. It's not like he's a serial batterer."

Amanda pressed her lips together tight and studied Olivia's face. "Okay, I get it. You don't want him getting into trouble over something he's only done once, in a fit of rage. Maybe it was a mistake. But you can't let him back in—"

"It's his apartment."

"Yours too, now. He'd have to evict you."

"Nah," said Olivia, shaking her head. "It wouldn't be fair to him—"

"He hit you and choked you," Amanda said slowly, enunciating each word. "And you're talking about fairness?"

"I know," said Olivia, closing her eyes as a heaviness landed on her chest. "And I have to leave. But right now, all I want to do is curl up in a little ball and sleep."

"So come back to my place," said Amanda.

Olivia sighed. "Thanks, but I think I'll go to a hotel instead. With the state of mind Elliot's in right now, I don't want him to get the wrong impression."

"Okay, I'll help you get some things together." As an afterthought she said, "And can I sit with you a while tonight? You look like you're in shock, Liv."

Olivia knew she was right—her trembling hands and empty thoughts told her as much, making it difficult to plan, or even move, as if she was immersed in toxic sludge.

Part 2.

Elliot wandered the streets, pieces of the evening flashing through his mind uncontrollably. '_Oh my God, I hit her_,' he thought, running his hand over his close-cropped hair. '_What the hell did I do?_'

Most of the evening was a blank, and he thought he had probably blacked out the worst of it. But in his mind, he saw her eyes light up with fire after he had thrown the punch, and arms blurred around him as he instinctively blocked them. And her terrified face when he held her up against the wall. '_No,' _he thought, remembering how her flesh had given way under his fingers, indenting neatly into an impression of his hand. '_Oh God, no._'

He pulled out his phone and pushed her number, pacing while he waited for her to answer. But it went straight to voicemail, and he hung up, not sure what to say in a message. What did one say to someone they nearly choked to death. Somehow, "I'm sorry" just didn't cut it.

Not wanting to be the stereotypical dickhead who brought flowers, he tried to think of other ways to make it up to her, but nothing came to mind that would erase the horrific thing he had done.

He wasn't an abuser. Or was he? He had never hit Kathy, never touched her in anger. The worst he had done was punched a hole in the wall, and Kathy wasn't even there when he did it. What was it about this relationship that made him so volatile?

Unable to think through the alcohol fog in his brain, he decided not to return home tonight. She would not want to see him right now, and he was too ashamed to try to explain himself. Instead, he staggered back to the precinct to sleep off his intoxication in the loft.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Comments: **__Sadist—[__**sey**__-dist], _noun, _a person who enjoys being cruel. Yep, that's me when it comes to my favorite characters._

**Too Close**

Chapter Five

Part 1.

The weekend passed by Olivia's motionless body as she sat in a chair, staring out the window at the unchanging scene of skyscrapers in the distance. Getting up only to use the restroom and lay down on her bed, the chair was her prison, and the weight of her emotions her cell.

It was not that she didn't want to move. But she would will herself to get up—to eat, or maybe go for a walk, and then an hour later she would still be sitting in the same spot, amazed by how much time had passed. Her arms and legs were like paperweights, and a medicine ball sat in the pit of her stomach.

It might be okay, if her thoughts were at least productive. But even that part of her physiology would not work, her mind drawing a blank much of the time. It was as if Elliot had shut down her entire system with that one unexpected blow. In her rare moments of awareness, she noticed that her wounds no longer hurt, at least not while she sat still. But she thought about the bottle of pain killers Amanda had given her nonetheless.

Try as hard as she might, Olivia could not see a decent future ahead. What she wanted more than anything was to have a happy life, a meaningful career, and a loving relationship with the man who had eluded her for the twelve years they were partnered together. Yet her PTSD kept her from performing her job effectively, the flashbacks keeping her anxiety level high. She might never feel completely comfortable in her own skin after the invisible wounds Lewis had left. And worst of all, she couldn't find comfort in Elliot—even if he was repentant. She knew from nearly fifteen years of working with domestic violence victims that she would be a fool to go back to a man who hit a woman even once.

The day turned into night, and then back into day, and no amount of staring at the moon blotted out by the rising sun could provide Olivia with the picture of a fulfilling existence.

Part 2.

Elliot spent the entire weekend kicking his own ass. He had figured out why he had been such a jerk lately—although he had thought that he was over Kathy, he had never recovered from her sudden change of heart when she left him. He recalled the night clearly—coming home at 3 a.m. from his job as a bouncer, walking through the bedroom door to find her naked and in bed with a man. Elliot wasn't supposed to come home for another hour, and Kathy had taken advantage of his work schedule.

He didn't know which he resented more—that she was cheating, or that she had the nerve to do it in their home, while the kids were there. They probably never figured it out, but it was an insulting challenge to his dominion. So it was no big revelation that Olivia's affair triggered him.

What surprised him the most was that his anger had been so out-of-control. He had a temper, yes. But he drew the line at hitting women—at least his conscious mind did. There was nothing but animal up in his head the night he went after Olivia, though, and he no longer trusted himself to live up to his own moral standards.

All weekend, he called her, wanting to at least try to convince her that he felt real remorse, even if she could never forgive him. All weekend, he hung up the phone when her voicemail greeting played. He could not say anything in a message—she needed to hear the sincerity in his voice firsthand. Sunday evening, he lay in bed alone, phone in his hand after trying to call her five times in the last two hours. His fingers wrapped around the lifeline as if he knew she would have a change of heart and contact him.

Part 3.

Olivia threw a pillow over her head to avoid the sun hitting her eyes like an alarm clock. As consciousness grew within her, she snatched the pillow away from her eyes to check the time on her phone. She was running late, and she had lost the will to move herself out of the bed.

She dialed Cragan's number and rolled over. "Liv?" he said. "We're getting ready to discuss Hoffman, where are you?"

"Captain," she said in the weakest voice she could muster. It was not much of an exaggeration, actually. "I'm feeling horrible this morning. I think I came down with some kind of stomach flu. Think you guys can manage without me?"

"Well, of course," he said. "You sure you're okay? You need someone to check in on you?"

"No, I'm fine. But thanks," she said.

She wished the words were true. If only she could care about anything at all . . .

Half the day passed by before she decided it was time to force herself to move. She thought a hot bath might pick up her mood, and she used all her might to sit up, and then propel her top half to teeter on top of wobbly legs. She made it into the tub, but the hot water made no impact on her unfeeling skin.

Wearing only a towel, she got out and went straight for her purse, needing to find something to fix her throbbing head. Digging out the painkillers, she read the label—"Hydroco 375/10." She had no idea what it meant, but if it would help her aching head, she didn't care. After shuffling to the mini-fridge, she opened it to get a bottle of water and scanned the drinks inside, including several tiny bottles of liquor.

Olivia froze, her arm outstretched. Her hand changed course, bypassing the water and grabbing a bottle of vodka instead. As she untwisted the lid from the pill bottle, it occurred to her that combining the two intoxicating substances might magnify their effects. It would be dangerous to mix the two, and she even risked never waking up.

Chills ran down her skin as the magnitude of the realization struck her. She emptied two pills into her hand and chased them with the vodka. Then she sat down at the tiny round table near the window and stared at the still-open pill bottle. Willing herself not to think about it, she emptied the pills in large chunks into her mouth, downing them a wad at a time with the alcohol.

She had no idea how many pills there were—she had not counted. Hastily, she removed every bottle of liquor in the fridge and set them on the table. Over the next half-hour, she mindlessly swallowed every bit of it, exhaling the burning vapors after each swig. She closed her eyes, but then opened them when the darkness made her head swirl until she felt like vomiting.

Her hands began to tremble, and her pulse pounded in her neck at a frightening rate. She gulped repeatedly, trying to convince herself to call someone, even if it was a complete stranger. The suicide hotline number came into her mind, having memorized it after referring so many others to it. She stared down at her cell phone, and then hurled it with all her might against the wall, smashing it to pieces. Then she lumbered over the table and picked up the hotel phone, slamming it down onto the table until it burst apart.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Comments: **__Oh geez. And I can't say that this story gets any easier anytime soon. But no spoilers._

**Too Close**

Chapter Six

Part 1.

Elliot guided Amanda by the arm to a semi-private area near the interrogation rooms. She was the only one in the unit who knew that Elliot was in a relationship with Olivia, and he could tell by the way she glowered at him that she knew what he had done. "Hey, you talked to Liv lately?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, her eyes narrowing. "I saw her Friday night. Got a call to your house."

He looked around to see if anyone had heard her, since she didn't make any effort to keep her voice down. "Okay, but have you seen her since then?" he said.

"I'm not telling you where she is, Stabler," she said, her tone dripping venom. "But no. Haven't talked to her since that night. I assume she wants her privacy to sort things out."

He nodded curtly and said, "I don't want you violating her wishes or anything. But she never showed up for work today, and I'm worried about her. Not that I would expect her to answer my calls, but it takes a lot for her to stay home."

"Captain says she's sick," said Amanda.

Elliot paused, processing the information. "Can you just call her, so at least I know she's okay? I promise, I won't ask to speak to her."

Amanda cast one more nasty look at him and went to her desk to retrieve her phone. She dialed and waited, setting the phone down after a few seconds. She shook her head at him.

He tried to have patience. But the last time he had given her space when he couldn't get ahold of her was when Lewis had her tied to her bed, committing horrific acts of torture on her. Waiting until the end of the day, he approached Amanda again and said, "Look, I'm not trying to stalk her. I just want to know she's okay. How did she seem Friday night?"

Amanda said, "Not real good. She was pretty shook up." Her face softening, she said, "I'm worried about her too."

Elliot began to pace, and ran his fingers over his hair. He stopped and looked at her again, saying, "I have to go check on her. Where is she?"

Amanda shook her head and said with an air of indigniation, "No, Elliot. I can't let you go down and barge in on her after what you did." They stared at each other for a minute, and then she said, "I'll go with you."

As they were walking out, Amanda said, "I shouldn't be taking you there. But the last time I had a bad feeling about Olivia, it turned out way worse than I imagined."

Part 2.

After Elliot pounded on Olivia's hotel room door for upwards of five minutes and she didn't answer, he decided to use the power of his badge. He expected Amanda to protest, offering explanations like, "Maybe she went out," but she silently backed him up by following him down to the front desk.

"Police," he said, flashing his badge. "We need a key to Room 459."

The clerk at the front desk narrowed his eyes. "You got a warrant?"

"It's an emergency," said Amanda, her voice stern. "There's an officer in trouble, so unless you want to get locked up for interfering with an investigation and—"

"Okay, okay," he said, fishing behind the desk for the key card.

They ran back up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. Elliot didn't know how he knew, but the situation was urgent, and he wasn't going to risk wasting one second. He popped the key into the lock and said, "Come on, come on," as he waited for the light to turn green.

Pushing the door open and scanning the room, he nearly averted his eyes when he spotted her unconscious naked body lying askew on the bed. But then he realized she wasn't just sleeping—she couldn't be, or she would have awakened by his fist pounding on the door. '_The same one I used to pound in her face,_' he thought.

He was at her side in a second, saying, "Liv—Liv," as he patted her bruised cheek. His eyes couldn't help but venture down to the red mark around her neck, and he screamed inwardly at himself. Amanda brought over Olivia's coat and laid it over her exposed skin. Elliot felt for a pulse, and there was one, albeit weak.

"Elliot," said Amanda from the round table by the window. He tore his eyes away from Olivia's face to check out the empty bottles of liquor Amanda held in her hand. Her gaze was drawn to something else on the table, and her hand flew up to her mouth as she said, "Oh my God, no."

She held up an empty medicine bottle and said, "I gave her these painkillers the other night."

"How many were there?" Elliot said, practically shouting.

"I don't know—at least twenty, maybe twenty-five?" she said, her eyes wide.

"Oh, shit," he said, looking down at Olivia's unresponsive face. He sat next to her and pried open one of her eyelids with his finger. "Her pupils are tiny," he said, standing now.

He picked up her dead weight, coat and all, and slung her over his shoulder. Amanda opened the door, and Elliot thought it a good thing that she was there to flash her badge at everyone they passed, or he would have been reported as a kidnapper by now. After they made it out of the lobby past the stunned gazes of the desk clerk and a couple of tourists, Amanda opened the back door of the cruiser they had parked out front, and Elliot plopped Olivia's unmoving body onto the back seat.

"Dispatch—Manhattan SVU, we have an officer down, suicide attempt, on route to Bellevue, ETA five or ten minutes," said Amanda into her radio, trying to keep her voice level.

Elliot heaved Olivia over to make a spot for himself in the back seat, and Amanda hopped behind the wheel. He lurched as the car swerved out into traffic, sirens blaring and lights spinning. He pulled Olivia up to a sitting position, holding her against him while he grabbed her face in his hand and shook it. "Liv . . . Liv. Wake up, Liv," he said in desperation, but she did not respond. He whispered into her ear, "Please wake up, Liv. I need you to stay with me."

But her head slumped in his hand, and he finally let her sink against him, floppy like one of his son's stuffed toys. He stroked her hair and took several deep breaths as he watched her chest barely rising and falling beneath the sleek black coat on top of her. Then he stopped breathing altogether at the same time she did, counting eight seconds before she inhaled again.

As soon as the air hit her lungs, she began to stir, her head turning to the side and her arm brushing against his chest. "El?" she murmured.

"Liv?" he said, perking up now. He helped her sit up again, although most of the effort came from him, as she was still too weak to open her eyes.

But her lips parted, and she said, "El, I'm sorry."

"_You're _sorry?" he said, wrapping his arms around her. He brushed his lips against her ear and said, "Just do me a favor—try to stay awake."

She nodded, but feebly pulled away from him to hurl all over the floor. He leaned toward her to pull her hair away from her face, and she threw up again. And then she went limp once more, and he hauled her up into his arms again, saying, "Liv. C'mon, stay with me."

He shook her by the shoulders, but it was no use—he knew she wasn't going to wake up again until they got to the hospital, if ever. Nevertheless, he put his face next to hers and said quietly, "Liv, you have nothing to apologize for. You never did anything to deserve what I did, and I'll never forgive myself." He brushed her hair away from her face and said, "I'm so sorry, Liv. Please, just do one last thing for me, and stay with me." Rocking gently while holding her limp body solidly in his arms while his tears dripped onto her, he silently begged God not to take her from him because of his stupid, bull-headed behavior.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Comments:**__ It's not pretty, but realistically this is about what would happen._

_ I think I sensed some sarcasm in that last comment, lol. But we do care, Guest, and you will see that if you keep reading. Or don't, if it bothers you. That's why I labeled this story as "angst" and not "romance." And let's face it—relationships in real life aren't all fairy tales and rainbows after the first few months, and Elliot _does _have a problem with his anger. So I guess this story isn't for everyone, but I still think it's believable, nevertheless. _

**Too Close**

Chapter Seven

Part 1.

A team of medical uniforms met Amanda and Elliot with Olivia slung over his shoulder just outside the sliding emergency room doors. Once Elliot placed her on the gurney, the experts crowded him out and took over. "BP's falling, get a crash cart ready," said one man wearing a white jacket. He turned to Elliot and said, "What did she have?"

Amanda answered for him, saying, "A handful of ten milligram hydro and enough liquor to do some serious damage."

Once the team had her inside a room, a nurse threaded an IV into Olivia's vein, cursing when it took her two or three tries before a satisfying bubble of red appeared. Elliot couldn't move his eyes off Olivia, glancing away from her only long enough to read the numbers on the monitors. Every time the rhythm slowed, Elliot held his breath, silently begging for each peak not to be the last one.

The nurse injected something into the tube, and a few seconds later, Olivia sat straight up with a gasp. She looked over to her right and gulped three deep breaths, her eyes scanning the room. She saw a bedpan held next to her by a nurse just in time to lean her head over and hurl into it. Elliot closed his eyes, not because he couldn't stand the sight of her throwing up, but because her awakening brought so much relief.

A nurse noticed him standing there for the first time and gently said, "Sir, are you family?"

"I'm—" he said, glancing at Amanda. "We're co-workers."

"Okay, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside the room for a few minutes."

His attempts to glimpse Olivia one last time were blocked by a wall of scrubs. He stepped out with Amanda and began to pace. "She'll be okay now, Elliot," said Amanda, but he knew she had no way of knowing that for sure.

A doctor came out in the hallway within a few minutes. "Do you have any information about her family?" he said.

"She doesn't have any," said Elliot, wanting to add that he was the closest thing she had, but not wanting to get into the details of their relationship.

"Are you close to her?"

"Yeah," he said. "I used to be her partner."

"We both work with her," added Amanda.

"Well maybe you can answer some questions for me then, while she recovers," said the doctor, glancing down at his clipboard.

_Recovers_. Elliot let the reassuring word roll around in his head, and then said, "Is she gonna be okay?"

The doctor wore a poker face, saying, "I think she will. She's out of immediate danger. But the alcohol combined with the acetaminophen in the hydrocodone could have damaged her liver, so we'll have to run some tests, and then it's wait and see."

Elliot let out a lungful of air and brought his hand to his head, wiping away sweat. The doctor studied the paperwork on his clipboard carefully and said, "Does she have a history of mental illness?"

"No," said Elliot. "Absolutely not."

"Any mental illness in her family?"

Amanda stared at Elliot blankly and allowed him to answer the question. "Um . . . her mother was an alcoholic, and all she knows about her father is that he was a rapist, so . . . does that count?"

The doctor did not answer, instead skipping to the next question. "Has she had any prior suicide attempts?"

Elliot paused, remembering how she ran out into a crowd of armed police with her gun drawn right after trying to permanently maim the man who raped her. "Yeah, she had something really traumatic happen a few months ago, and . . . yeah. She did try, but she was also under a lot of stress."

"She probably still has PTSD," added Amanda.

The doctor's eyebrows shot up, betraying his growing interest. "And has she had anything stressful happen within the past few days that might have triggered her?"

Elliot kept his demeanor steady, but his insides turned jittery as he thought of how to phrase his answer. "She and I had a fight on Friday," he said, his words lurching to a halt at the end of the sentence.

The doctor looked up from his note-taking and said, "You had a fight?" He let the arm holding the clipboard drop to his side and said, "Are you two . . . involved?"

Elliot's lips pinched together, and then he said, "We . . . we're—yeah."

A nurse appeared from the room, sparing Elliot from having to decide whether to reveal the secret of his assault against her. "Doctor," she said, "she's ready to talk to you."

Part 2.

"Elliot, please stop with the pacing," Amanda said curtly.

He looked at her glaring at him, and he didn't blame her. He must seem like a monster after seeing the distinct markings on her neck and face. In fact, he expected any moment for a uniformed officer to appear and arrest him for domestic assault. If it weren't for the fact that it would cause him to be somewhere else while her fate was uncertain, he would have wished to be sent to Central Booking, so that he could at least begin to alleviate some of the guilt.

The doctor surprised Elliot when he came back out in the hallway and said, "She's awake and doing much better. We have her stabilized, but I'm going to let her rest before I bombard her with questions." He glanced from Elliot's face to Amanda's and back again, and Elliot anticipated that the moment of judgment was before him. The doctor said, "She did say that she wants to see you both, though. But keep it short."

Elliot's insides twinged, and he stepped past the doctor, trying not to knock the man off balance in his haste. He paused to catch his breath as he entered the room, scanning her figure lying supine on the bed. She turned her head toward him, their eyes meeting. Drying sweat plastered her hair against her head, and dark hollow spots underlined her eye sockets, but he didn't care as long as she was breathing.

He approached her with hesitation, trying to read her face, but all he could tell was that she looked like she might lose her lunch again at any moment. He took the absence of anger in her expression as a sign that he could approach her, and he came within a foot of her bed, not wanting to risk getting too close. "Hey," he said softly, not knowing where to start.

"Elliot," she said, her eyelids drooping as she laid her head back on the pillow. And then she looked beyond him and said, "Hey, Amanda."

He watched the women exchange looks, and then Olivia said, "Can you give us a minute alone, Amanda?"

The blonde nodded, and left them to their fates. "I—" he began weakly. "I want you to know that, no matter what happens, I'm going to get help. I don't know how to convince you how sorry I am that I did this to you." He lifted a finger to touch the red skin on her neck, and she astonished him when she didn't flinch.

"Elliot—" she croaked.

"I don't know what got into me that night—I shouldn't have been drinking so much—"

"Elliot—" she said, closing her eyes.

"I've been a real asshole lately, and I can't believe I hurt you—"

"Elliot, stop," she said. "I appreciate your apologies—I do. But if you keep it up, I'm going to puke all over you."

She put a hand to her forehead and said, "My head hurts too much to talk about this. It's not what I want from you." She opened her eyes and touched his hand, and her next words cracked from the tears in her throat. "All I want right now is this."

Her hand slipped into his, and he tightened his fingers around it. Watching her face crumple, he sat down on the bed and pulled her into him so she could sob into his shoulder. He kept his mouth shut, respecting her wishes, and squeezed her tight as her tears soaked through his shirt. He ran his hand over her hair, separating the tangled strands with his fingers.

When she was finished with her crying spell, she pulled away, and he brushed his fingers lightly over her bruised cheek. "I'm going to let you rest now," he said. "Can I come back in the morning?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding.

Then he voiced one more thought, saying, "Didn't you tell the doctor what I did?"

"No," she said, lying back in the bed. "I told them I got into it with a suspect."

Their eyes exchanged a thousand words, until he nodded and got up, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Please remember there are people who love you and want you to live," he said. "_Especially me,_" he wanted to add, but held his tongue, thinking he had lost his right to an opinion on the matter.

She brushed another tear from her cheek and nodded up at him, and he could feel her staring at his back as he exited the room.

Part 3.

Olivia did the only thing she could manage to do after Elliot left—she slept. It less than a half-hour before the doctor came in and woke her up. "Olivia," he said, "I'm Dr. Akins. I need to ask you some questions."

She groaned and said, "Can't this wait?"

"We really need to do it now, so I can complete your evaluation and determine your disposition."

"Disposition?"

He ignored her, saying, "Do you have a history of mental illness?"

"No, not really," she said weakly.

"But you have PTSD from a recent trauma, correct?"

"Yeah, but how did you . . .?" And then she realized—of course he would have talked to the people closest to her.

"Let me ask you, Olivia, did you intend to take your own life?"

She ran her fingers through her hair. "No, not really," she said, shame burning her cheeks. "I mean, I guess in that moment, I knew that's what would happen, but I hadn't planned it out."

"Uh-huh," he said, scribbling down notes as she talked. "And this was your second suicide attempt, correct?"

She wrinkled her forehead in thought, and then said, "Yeah, I guess it was."

The doctor set his clipboard down on his knee and said, "Olivia, do you have any family at all, or another support system?"

"Not really," she said, her voice softer with each answer. "I have a brother, but he's . . . unavailable."

"Kids?" he asked.

"No."

He jotted down more notes and said, "If you do well tonight, and your liver levels turn out okay, the plan is to transfer you to Kings County Psychiatric Facility first thing in the morning, for a seventy-two hour hold."

"Kings County?" she said, remembering recent investigations into abuses at the facility. "That's in Brooklyn. Why there?"

The doctor stood to leave, and said, "All the other psych wards are full right now. That's the closest one that can take on new patients."

Too tired to protest, she rolled over on her side and blocked out all thoughts as sleep saved her from more nausea.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Comments:**__ Sorry I've been so mean to Olivia, but I had to do that to her to get her to the psych ward. Where the real torment can begin, lol. _

_And I'm not lying—this is an E/O story, at some point. But I like an actual story, I'm not a slash-fic kind of gal. _

_I want to give you guys reassurances, but no. No spoilers._

**Too Close**

Chapter Eight

Part 1.

"Where's Benson?" said Cragan, just as Elliot was getting off the elevator.

"Captain, I have to talk to you, it's about Olivia," he said. He could keep her status from the rest of the unit, but Cragan would find out even if Elliot didn't break it to him.

"In my office," said Cragan.

After he shut the door, Elliot said, "Captain, Olivia attempted suicide yesterday. Downed a bunch of painkillers with alcohol."

Cragan just stared at him, his jaw slack. Finally, the captain said softly, "I—I talked to her yesterday morning." He ran a hand over his chin, saying, "Is she okay?"

"Yeah," said Elliot. "I called over there this morning, and she's going to be fine. I was going to go see her, but they're sending her away to Kings County."

Cragan sighed and shook his head. "That place has had a lot of complaints." He narrowed his eyes and said, "I'm going to see if Huang will go over there and monitor her progress, just to be safe."

Elliot nodded, relieved that one more person would be there to support her. Cragan inhaled deeply and said, "Elliot, do you know what brought this on?"

Elliot's skin crawled as he shrugged before lying, saying, "Probably stress from her assault."

Cragan's eyebrows lowered in concern. "I thought she was doing so much better," he said. "Guess you can never tell."

"I guess not," said Elliot, kicking himself for being too cowardly to confess.

Part 2.

Olivia rode in an ambulance to Kings County, and then got a wheelchair ride into the building. She barely had the energy to check the place out, but she noticed barren walls painted a depressing mono-shade of Russian green. The common area was quieter than she expected, but as soon as they turned the corner into a hallway of cookie-cutter rooms, a woman's voice shrieked. The nurse pushed Olivia's wheelchair into the room from where the sound had come and said, "This is it. You'll be rooming with Shelly here."

Looking up at a thin woman with short hair staring straight up at the ceiling, Olivia said, "Hi, Shelly."

The woman, who was probably no more than twenty-five years old, stopped her shrieking for a few seconds, and then started up again. "Don't worry, she's just hungry," said the nurse. "She'll stop after lunch."

Olivia sighed and got up, heading toward an empty bed. "When do I get to wear regular clothes?" she said to the nurse, who was already heading out the door.

"Once you've shown that you're not a danger to yourself," said the nurse. "Probably by tonight, one of your loved ones can bring you some. No strings though. You get one phone call a day, and one hour of visitation, but not until you've seen the psychiatrist."

"Well, when is that?" said Olivia.

"When he works you into his schedule," said the nurse, disappearing into the hallway now, leaving Olivia alone with her noisy roommate.

Left with zero energy after withdrawal from the toxic substances in her system, Olivia buried herself in the blankets on her bed, and then brought a pillow over her head, hoping to shut out Shelly's voice. The girl stopped, only to have a seat on her own bed, chanting repeatedly, "Kill bitches kill bitches kill bitches . . ."

Olivia pulled herself weakly out of bed and staggered out into the common area, hoping to at least escape the noise. She was rewarded with the silence of two shuffling drugged-out patients, and she found her way to an overstuffed chair and slumped into it, exhausted.

"Olivia," said a familiar voice, awakening her from a deep slumber. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she noted that several hours had passed since she fell asleep in the chair. George Huang stood over her, waiting for her to rub her eyes and sit up before taking a seat in the chair next to her. "How are you doing?" he asked in his most sympathetic voice.

"I'm—I'm fine," she said, unable to find the words for how she really felt.

He gave her a moment to get used to the idea of him being there, and then said, "The captain sent me to check up on you."

Her chest tightened into a ball. "The captain knows?"

"Yeah, but it's alright," he said. "He's worried about you more than anything else."

"George," she said, "I'm actually glad you came. Nobody's come to talk to me yet, and it's six already. I can't even have visitors until I see the psychiatrist."

George pursed his lips and said, "I was afraid of that. This place is notorious for patient neglect."

"Yeah," she said, "I've heard that."

George stood and said, "I'll go see what I can find out. And I'll come back and visit you tomorrow morning to make sure you get the care you need."

"Thanks, George," she said, settling back into her chair.

Part 3.

Olivia tried to eat in the dining room. Tried, and failed, because she counted about a half-dozen roaches scurrying on the tables when she sat down. But the final appetite killer was the pounding that her roommate Shelly gave to the tabletop. The first time the woman's fist made noisy contact with the tabletop, Olivia jumped, and then she steeled herself as it happened four more times.

As soon as the orange mush meant to be dinner was delivered to her, Olivia pushed it away and stood, saying to the nurse, "Can I take a shower now?"

"Usually, not until seven-thirty, but I'll get your hygiene and you can go early since it's your first night."

Olivia had been given meds at dinnertime, and they began to make her feel heavy as she headed toward the bathroom. She knocked on the bathroom door, and a male voice said, "Go away." She started to leave, but halted in her tracks when she heard a female voice crying inside the bathroom.

She pounded on the door and said, "Is there someone else in there? Are you okay?"

"Go away—it's occupied!" said the man.

Olivia turned the handle, and it opened. Nudging the door in, she saw a woman leaning over the sink and a man in a security guard uniform bending over her. "Get out of here!" he screamed.

"Hey," she shouted back. "Get off her! Are you okay?" she said to the woman, who had her pajama bottoms down around her ankles and terrified eyes.

Olivia stepped toward the guard, who began to zip up his pants as he turned toward her. "You need to leave, Missy. I'm warning you."

"My name's not Missy," she said, coming up fast behind him and wrenching his arm behind his back.

"Hey," he said, writhing while he tried to grab her with his other hand. "Let go of me. Staff!"

It only took a few seconds for another security guard to arrive, followed by a nurse and another staff member in scrubs. "I'm a police officer," she said before the second guard could reach her. "This man was raping her."

The second guard started to reach for her free arm, and she yanked it away from him, clenching her hand even tighter around the first guard's wrist. "You're the new patient, aren't you?" said the second guard, holding up his hands in stop signs. "Olivia, is it? I'm Roberto. You need to let him go so we can talk about this."

Calmed by his reasonable demeanor, Olivia said, "Okay, Roberto, this man raped that woman. I saw it with my own eyes—I'm a detective with Manhattan SVU."

His hand moved toward his taser. "Okay, Olivia, and right now you're also a patient. So let's choose our actions very wisely now. Let go of Moses here, and we can talk."

She gently removed her hands from the guard's wrist, and he turned around and said, "She's making things up."

Olivia's teeth ground together, but before she had a chance to protest, Roberto moved in on her and teamed up with Moses to wrestle her arms in front of her and restrain her while the nurse closed in and injected her. Before she had time to think, she was in a dreary, drugged-out fog, only vaguely aware of what was going on around her.

In moments of clarity, she could tell she was slumping in a wheelchair, and then everything went blank once more. When she semi-awakened, she was in an elevator, fighting to lift her head to see a button lit up with the letter "B". And the next thing she knew, she was being lifted onto a table. Struggle as she may to stay awake, most of the time she remained unconscious. But in those rare moments when she stirred into a hazy awareness, she caught glimpses of her surroundings—damp cinder-block walls, concrete floors, one tiny window toward the corner of the room.

She passed out for a long time now, and then awoke and tried to raise her arms only to find herself bound to the table with nylon restraints. The table, rigid and uncomfortable, pressed hard against her weary head. Although she couldn't see anyone, she heard voices behind her head say, "Dr. Romanov."

"Roberto, you did fine," said a male voice that sounded Russian to Olivia. "Keep her down here until I say she's ready. And nobody touches her, you understand? . . . Good. There can't be any marks on her, or they'll be all over us like flies on a horse's ass."

"Doctor," she rasped. His face—with a clean-shaven goatee and glasses—appeared over her for just a second, and then he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Comments: **__I guess I should put in a disclaimer—The events in this story are entirely fictional and are not meant to portray actual events from any existing mental health facility. _

_ Oh, and now y'all might understand the story cover image. That one was taken from an actual place—a creepy basement in a former Pythian Castle. _

**Too Close**

Chapter Nine

Part 1.

Olivia spent the night on the table in the basement. The only way she knew this fact was the darkness in the tiny window that dissipated into a square of light when morning came. But she didn't recall anything from the evening, as the drugs knocked her into such a stupor that she slept through most of it.

But she started to wake up now, and she moved her arms to find that they were still bound to the table. Unable to see behind her, she said, "Is there anyone in here?"

No response came, and she wrestled with the restraints to see if there was any chance of freeing herself. The situation reminded her too much of the last time she had been restrained, and her guts tightened into a wad. "I need to talk to someone," she yelled.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, claustrophobia setting in. A wave of drowsiness washed over her, and a vision of Lewis came to her, standing over her, holding up a lit cigarette. And then she remembered the last time she was taken to a basement, and her breaths became short and shallow. She struggled against the restraints to fight off terrifying flashbacks, but footsteps echoed, arousing her from her dazed imagination. The door to her room—or more accurately, her cell—opened. Roberto came to her table and said, "You're not going to resist, right?"

She bit her lips and nodded. "I promise. Just get me out of here."

He unfastened the restraints and helped her sit up, saying, "Follow me, Dr. Romanov wants to see you now."

Part 2.

Roberto escorted her into Dr. Romanov's office, which seemed like a room she would expect from a typical mental health professional's office—a copy of the DSMV-IV on the bookshelves along with other scholarly psychiatric treatises, a cushiony couch, and bright paintings of Venice on the walls. Olivia settled herself on the couch and tried to relax, reminding herself that this man was a doctor.

"Ms. Benson," said Dr. Romanov. "Welcome to Kings County."

"Not much of a welcome," she said, struggling to keep sarcasm out of her voice.

"We can't tolerate assault on our staff," he said, folding his fingers together.

"There was a woman being raped by a guard in the bathroom," she said, desperation creeping into her voice.

The doctor paused, and she became hopeful that she might have finally found someone who would take her seriously. "Ms. Benson, I don't think you saw what you think you saw," he said, and her mouth fell open. "The guard says he was restraining an uncooperative patient."

She set her jaw. "I know what I saw."

Dr. Romanov scowled and said, "No, Ms. Benson, I don't think you do." Glancing down at a manila folder on his desk, he said, "This recent suicide attempt was your second, correct?"

She pressed her lips together hard, and then said, "I'm depressed, not psychotic. What I saw was a clear case of sexual assault. Not only that, but restraints were used on me even though I wasn't resisting. Isn't there a limit of two hours for physical restraints in psychiatric facilities?"

The doctor's eyes hardened. "Ms. Benson," he said, standing now to come to the front of the desk so he could lean back against it, closing the distance between them to a couple of feet. He wasn't drastically taller than her, but his arm muscles flexed, showing her that he was capable of putting up a good fight if he had to. She glared up at him, willing him to back off with her eyes. "I came to America from Turkmenistan. Do you know what they do to people who resist in my home country? You would be hung naked, upside-down, by your ankles."

Olivia's chest tightened as she realized that she was not dealing with someone who valued ethics. "The last I checked," she said, "this is not a prison. And we have laws in this country—"

He stood solid, folding his arms. "Yes, but as long as you are in a psychiatric facility, your state of mind will be under scrutiny, and it's difficult to ascribe any credibility to a mental patient."

She fell silent, finally understanding the severity of the situation. Smirking at his own apparent victory, the doctor said, "Now, we are going to begin a course of treatment that I think will be really appropriate for your specific affliction. I imagine you are hungry, so I will give you some time to eat and complete your hygiene, and then we will begin."

"Can I get a change of clothes?" she asked. "I've been wearing this same thing—"

"Of course!" he said, and she got a glimmer of hope that at least she retained _some _ounce of dignity.

"Can I . . . have a visitor? Or at least call someone?" she said, wanting to get the word out to Elliot that the guard needed to be arrested.

"No, I'm afraid we can't allow that until after your treatment, which might help eliminate certain faulty and harmful memories from your mind."

She gulped a sharp breath, saying, "What kind of treatment?"

"I think ECT would be very valuable in your situation, Ms. Benson."

"ECT? Isn't that—electroshock therapy?" Her pulse sped up, and she wiped sweat from her palms onto her hospital gown.

"That's correct. It is used on patients with severe depression such as yours—"

"But I'm not—I mean, my depression is because of my situation, it's not chronic—"

"I'm just looking at the severity of your disorder, Ms. Benson," he said, a self-satisfying look settling on his face.

"Don't I have to give consent for that kind of treatment?" she said, her voice growing quieter.

"Not in your case. It's quite urgent."

She nodded, understanding what was happening. He wanted to erase the memories of the rape she had witnessed from her mind, so that she couldn't report it. "I want to speak to my own psychiatrist, George Huang," she said.

"We can't do that. It would be inappropriate to change health care providers in the middle of treatment," he said.

She drew her lips together, staring up at him while she tried to think of something else she could say to free herself from this madman's whim. A nurse came to the door and said, "Dr. Romanov, I need to speak to you out in the hall for a moment."

"Excuse me for a moment," he said. "I will be right back."

As soon as he left the room, she scanned his desk for anything useful. Seeing a pen hidden under a book, she snatched it, along with a piece of paper from a memo pad. She tucked them away under her gown just before Dr. Romanov came back into the room, and closed her eyes, relieved that she had accomplished this one small goal.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Comments:**__ Have patience. That is all._

**Too Close**

Chapter Ten

Part 1.

Elliot hung up the phone and marched into Cragan's office. "How's Liv?" said the captain.

"They're not allowing her any visitors, or phone calls, for some reason," he said, his voice irate. "I can bring her some clothes—that's it."

Cragan's eyebrows lowered. "I wonder what's going on over there. Go talk to Huang, see if he's been able to get in to see her."

Elliot nodded and made his way to George's office. He knocked on the door, not giving George time to invite him in before saying, "Have you been to see Olivia?"

"I did see her last night," he said, looking up from his computer monitor. "But I'm not having any luck finding out anything about her treatment. They're stone-walling me. In fact, I just got off the phone with a patient representative at the facility, and they won't even let me see her anymore."

"Isn't that an ethics violation?" said Elliot.

"Yes, it is," said George. "As a patient, she has a right to a mental health professional of her choice. But all I can do is lodge a complaint with the Office of Mental Health and hope that they remedy the situation. I was getting ready to do that right now."

Elliot sighed. "Crap," he said. "I'm really worried about her, and I have no way to check up on her. She's probably okay, but I've heard things about that place—"

"I have too," said Huang. "That _is _where the woman died in the emergency room after being left without treatment for hours on end. Staff members practically stepped over her dead body on the floor, bypassing her several times without checking on her."

Elliot turned toward the door and pounded his palm against the frame. "I've got to at least go over there and deliver her clothes. Maybe I can find out something else while I'm there."

"Good luck," said George. "I'll do what I can from my end." As Elliot began to step out the door, George said, "Oh, by the way." Elliot's hand froze on the door frame. "Do you have any idea how Olivia got that bruise on her face? She looked like she had marks around her neck too."

Elliot sighed inwardly, shutting the door behind him as he turned to walk over to George's desk, taking a seat across from him. He hung his head and looked down at his hands as he said, "I, um . . . Olivia and I had a fight, and it got physical."

Looking up to see George's reaction, Elliot thought he saw a trace of anger flash over the man's normally stoic expression. "You mean you hit her," he said.

"Yeah," said Elliot softly. "And then when she fought back, I—I choked her."

Elliot fought hard to keep tears from escaping the corners of his eyes, not wanting to appear repentant only when directly confronted with his misdeeds. The truth was, he had cried every day over the damage he had done to her. "George, I don't expect forgiveness from her or anyone. What I did was inexcusable. But what I can't figure out is, how do I make this right?"

"You get help," said George, back to his calm-natured persona. "And not because you want her to come back to you. But because you sincerely want to make sure you get control of your anger."

Elliot shook his head and said, "How did you know we're seeing each other? We haven't told anyone."

"You never got physical with her all these years as her partner, did you?"

"Not once."

"So, as your relationship intensified, so did your emotions. That's why it's just now happening." George examined Elliot's face to see if he was getting it, and then said, "Look, Elliot, most men who abuse don't change, it's true. But you have something other men don't have—you have insight into how wrong your behavior was, and you have real remorse. I think if you get help, and you take responsibility for your own actions, you can learn to relate to Olivia in a healthy way."

"Thanks, doc," said Elliot, wringing his hands. "I wish I could say that makes me feel better, but I'm not sure I'm ever going to forgive myself for hurting the woman I love."

Part 2.

Olivia leaned on a chair in the common room and inhaled several deep breaths. Right now there was nothing she wanted more than drop into one of the chairs and curl up into a little ball, sleeping until someone took her away. The drugs they gave her—anti-depressants, anti-agitation, anti-anxiety—along with the strain from all the major life events that wanted to pour on her all at once for some unknown reason, all made her want to give up and give in to whatever came her way.

But she sighed and lifted her head, looking around the room at the downcast faces surrounding her. She picked one young woman with bandages around her wrists, and strolled over to her. "Hi, I'm Olivia," she said.

The woman startled as if nobody had ever talked to her in this place. But then she said, "I'm Rita."

"You doing okay in here?" said Olivia, looking Rita straight in the eyes.

"I guess," said Rita, her gaze darting around, looking for guards. She whispered, "This place is horrible. There's bugs, and no doctor or counselor ever talks to me. But I'm supposed to get out tomorrow."

"I know what you mean about this place," said Olivia. "Rita, do you get any phone calls?"

"Yeah," nodded Rita. "Why? Don't you?"

"Good," said Olivia, lowering her voice. "Because I'm a cop, and they won't let me use the phone. It's very important that I use it, so I can report what's going on here."

Rita shot her a look that said she didn't believe a word of what Olivia was saying. "For real?" she said.

"Yeah, and if you'll do what I ask you to, you can verify it. All I need is for you to make one phone call."

Rita's eyes got wide, and Olivia said, "I promise I'm not making this up. I'm not delusional, I'm just depressed, just like you. But I know people who might be able to help us."

Rita smirked, and then said, "What do you want me to do?"

When Olivia was done talking to Rita, she walked throughout the common area, searching the faces of patients she encountered. After she had looked at about a dozen faces, she recognized one woman, and said to her, "Excuse me."

The woman's eyes flashed terror, and Olivia said, "It's okay, my name is Olivia. Remember me?"

The woman, a wild-eyed brunette in her forties, nodded curtly but did not speak. Olivia said, "What's your name?"

The woman hesitated, and for a moment Olivia thought she might not be able to speak. Finally, she said in a broken voice, "Tabby."

"Tabby," said Olivia, "You know I saw what happened in the bathroom the other day."

Tabby looked around nervously, and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's okay," said Olivia, trying to catch the woman's gaze. "You don't have to talk to anyone about it right now. But there might be police officers coming to investigate, and you need to tell them what happened, okay? They'll make sure you're safe."

Just then, Roberto appeared in the room with a wheelchair, saying, "Miss Olivia, it's time."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Comments: **__Hold your breath. _

**Too Close**

Chapter Eleven

Part 1.

"Miss Olivia," said Roberto, "You ready to go?"

Tempted to flee, but knowing she would be captured and sedated if she tried, Olivia eyed the chair and resigned herself to sitting in it. Roberto wheeled her into the elevator, pressing the button labeled "B".

"Why are we going to the basement?" said Olivia, her shoulders tensing.

"That's where the ECT lab is," said Roberto, staring at the numbers above the door as they lit up.

Olivia's breaths came in short, shallow spurts, and she tried to slow them down. Fighting off dizziness as the door slid open, she braced herself as the wheelchair clanked over the metal edge of the elevator, and then glided smoothly over the concrete floor.

Olivia opened her mouth to gulp more air into her lungs as Roberto rolled her into a tiny room with no windows, the cinder block walls rough like a dungeon. The only contents that fit inside the space were an operating table like the one she slept on last night, and some medical equipment. She told herself that she would cooperate, because she had no other choice. But when she saw restraints on the table before her, she tensed up, preparing for a fight.

She scanned the condensed room, noticing a full needle in the hands of a nurse standing next to the bed, and she knew that it was pointless to try and escape. Her legs weak, she stood and wobbled over to the table, swallowing hard as she forced herself to lie down on her back. She pulled her hospital down as far as it would go, trying to cover herself the best she could, and then closed her eyes and listened to her pulse pounding in her temple.

As Roberto fastened the straps around her wrists, he said, "This is just for your own safety, you know. Sometimes people's hands and legs go flying around during the process, and we don't want you to get hurt."

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut even harder as her hands and feet began to tremble, causing the metal on the restraints to clatter. "I won't feel this, right?" she rasped.

"Probably not," said Roberto.

Her eyes shot open as the nurse began to fidget with the controls. "What do you mean _probably_ not? Don't you give me some kind of anesthetic?"

"No, we don't have money for that kind of thing at this facility. We use what's called _unmodified _ECT. You probably won't remember any of it, though."

Olivia shook her head. "No," she said. "You can't do this. Stop. I want to talk to somebody. A patient representative—anyone. I'm a cop—"

Dr. Romanov stood in the doorway now, and he nodded to the nurse and said, "You can start now."

"Ah, Gawd," she said, stiffening her body involuntarily. A switch flipped, and her eyes rolled back in her head, body arching as a blue light flashed before her eyes, consciousness disappearing a split second later.

Part 2.

Elliot dropped Olivia's clothes on the front counter and said, "I need to talk to someone about a patient here, Olivia Benson."

The receptionist looked at the computer monitor and said, "Yeah, all her visitation is restricted, including phone calls. That's unusual, but it happens."

"Why is it restricted?"

She looked at him condescendingly and said, "I can't tell you that, Sir."

Just as he was about to protest, his phone rang. "Stabler," he answered.

"Are you Elliot?" said a woman's voice on the other end.

"Speaking," he said.

"I'm a patient at Kings County psychiatric facility. My name is Rita." She lowered her voice. "I have a message from Olivia."

Elliot almost blurted out, "Olivia?" but then noticed the nurse's eyes trained on him, and said instead, "Go ahead."

"She wants me to meet with you in person. Can you come to the facility?"

"Yeah," he said, "Be in there in a minute."

He hung up the phone and gave the nurse Rita's information, and she took him inside the lock-down area to a big room with plump chairs and a few tables strewn about. A young woman with restless eyes came up to him and said, "I'm Rita. Olivia said to give this to you." She glanced around to see if any guards were watching, and then slipped him a note.

Elliot unfolded the tiny pink square and read the handwritten message on it, which said:

Elliot—a guard named Moses raped a patient, she has short brown hair, about 5'2", has a tattoo of a flower on her lower back. I caught him in the act. Dr. Romanov is giving me ECT so I won't remember. Please help—Liv

Elliot's chest tightened, and he bolted to the nearest person wearing a pair of scrubs. "Where's Olivia Benson—I need to speak to a patient, named Olivia Benson."

The staff member shrugged and pointed to a nurse pushing a cart. "You'll have to ask her," he said.

"Olivia Benson," Elliot said before even reaching the nurse. "I need to speak to her."

The nurse shook her head. "She can't have visitors."

Elliot whipped out his badge, an edge of authority entering his voice. "This isn't a personal visit. This is official police business—I'm investigating a crime. I need to speak to her—now."

The nurse raised an eyebrow at him, and he wanted to slap her. Then she pointed down the hallway. "Here she comes now."

Elliot looked where she was pointing, at a wheelchair containing a heavy-lidded Olivia wearing nothing but a hospital gown with a blanket thrown over her. Rushing to her as the security guard parked her wheelchair next to her room, he squatted next to her and said, "Olivia." Her eyes glazed over, but she turned her head to him. "You okay?" he said.

She smiled like a heroin addict and said, "Elliot—what are you doing here?"

He lifted her hand into his and said, "Did they use ECT on you?"

She lowered her eyebrows in concentration and said, "You know, I think they did. But I don't remember it."

He knew something was not right with her. She acted confused, like an elderly person with dementia. "Here, let me help you into your room so we can talk," he said.

She used his hand as support to stand, but then winced, and fell back into her chair again. "My foot—"

He bent down and examined it, and a noticeable black and purple bump protruded from her ankle. "She needs medical assistance," he said, looking in the direction of the nurse, who stood gawking at the two of them. "Now!"

He went with her to the ER in the hospital, and while they waited for the results of an x-ray, he pulled a chair up next to her, saying, "Olivia, do you remember what happened in the psych ward?"

Her dazed eyes darted as she struggled to stay focused, and he just wanted to take her home with him right now and wait on her like she deserved. None of this was her fault, he knew. She shook her head slowly and said, "I'm having trouble remembering anything right now. I see people, and they look familiar, but I can't remember names, or where I know them from. It's all foggy."

He took her hand in his and said quietly, to avoid the nurse hearing, "Do you remember the note you wrote me?"

Crinkles formed in her forehead. "No," she said. "I have vague memories of . . . of a basement, with a bed, and restraints. And a tiny window."

Elliot sighed, caressing her hand now. "You just have patience," he said. "I'm going to try and get you out of here."

She nodded, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she said, "Yeah, El, I would like that. I don't remember exactly what happened in the basement, but I don't want to go back."

He rubbed her back and then stroked her hair, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. "Okay. I'm going to take care of it." She clenched her eyes shut and absorbed the kiss like it might be the last one ever.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Comments:**_

**Too Close**

Chapter Twelve

Part 1.

Elliot made phone calls while a doctor put a cast on Olivia's ankle, broken apparently from tensing her muscles during ECT. "Elliot, without Olivia's memory of the rape, we have no case," said Cragan over the phone. "I ran it by Barba, and he says he won't charge anyone until you have more—preferably a complaining witness."

"Gah, Captain, can't I just take Olivia out of here for her own protection?"

"I'll talk to Huang and see if we can at least get her moved."

"But we can still bring the guard down to the station for questioning, get him out of there," said Elliot. "And we should be able to find our victim—Olivia left a good description on the note."

"Alright, I'll have Fin and Amanda come down to get the suspect, and you work on finding the victim."

"And Olivia?" said Elliot, hoping the captain would give the okay to send her home.

"She's still a psych patient, Elliot," said Cragan. "You're going to have to accept that she's staying in a facility for at least the next day."

"I know," said Elliot, "but you have no idea how horrible this place is. The entire thing needs to be shut down."

"That may be," said Cragan, "but ever since that woman died there a few years ago, the Chief of D's son-in-law has been running the place, and he's not going to want us drawing attention to it until we can prove something happened. So have patience. They're probably not going to do anything to hurt her, knowing that we're on them."

"The doctor gave her electroshock therapy," said Elliot. "He's trying to shut her up, Captain. That should be enough to remove her right there."

"Like I said, I'll talk to Huang," said Cragan. "But without a doctor's approval, we can't just take her out of there. Can you imagine the outrage if people found out we let a mental patient go just because she's a detective?"

"I don't give a damn what people think—" said Elliot, his volume growing.

"Elliot, just do what I ask," said Cragan. "I don't like it any more than you, but there's procedures that have to be followed."

Elliot sighed and hung up. "Fuck procedures," he said to nobody in particular. As long as an investigation was ongoing, he was allowed to be inside the ward, and he planned on taking advantage of that fact for as long as possible.

Part 2.

The events of the past few days jumbled inside Olivia's mind. She remembered bits and pieces, but when she tried to fit the pieces together like a puzzle, none of them glided easily together. There was the room in the basement, and the restraints. There was a woman who took a note from Olivia. There was a man with a goatee looking down on her, with a Russian accent. And then there was Elliot's enraged face, reddened, veins standing out.

But she couldn't recall the names of any of these other people, or what they had to do with her. She didn't even know why she was in here to begin with. But as she closed her eyes, she regained one lost image from the past—that of herself, sitting in a chair, staring out the window as she swallowed a handful of pills and took a swig from a bottle of vodka.

She swallowed hard at the memory—hat was one she could have left behind. As they finished the cast on her foot, she looked over at Elliot and wondered why he had been so angry in her memories. But she didn't care right now—all she knew was that he was here, and that made her feel safe.

Elliot helped her into the wheelchair and took her to the restroom with a change of clothes he had brought her from home. As he helped her up, she leaned into him for support and said, "Thank you so much El. You have no idea how much it means to have my own clothes." He had his arms wrapped around her to help her balance on her one good foot, and now he pulled her into him and hugged her tightly before helping her into the restroom to change.

She struggled to pull her sweat pants on over her cast, but the rest of the clothes were easier. Elliot took her back to her room, where Shelly was having a conversation with herself. "No, I didn't do that," she said. "But you said you would have to wash the car, and it's washed. No, but I didn't wash it—the evil king did. He's possessed."

Olivia allowed Elliot to pull her up from the wheelchair, and leaned on him to hobble over to the bed. Once she was lying down, he sat next to her and studied her face, worry showing in the wrinkles on his forehead. He held her hand like a rose petal, and said, "So you don't remember anything about seeing a woman being raped by a guard?"

She shifted in the bed, saying, "No, why?"

He pulled out a note and showed it to her, and she saw that it was in her own handwriting. When she read it, she let her hand drop, and said, "I don't even remember writing this, Elliot. This is all so strange. Why can't I remember?"

"ECT causes memory loss," he said. "Listen, Liv, I'm going to try and find this woman. If you remember anything, call for me, okay?"

She nodded and settled into her bed, sagging into the mattress as if she had not slept in a year.

Part 3.

Elliot found several women who met Olivia's description, asking each one if they had a tattoo before moving on. He came to one woman with shifty eyes and said, "Hi, I'm Detective Stabler with Manhattan SVU, can I ask you some questions?"

The woman nodded, and he said, "There's been a report of a rape in this facility, do you know anything about that?"

The woman shook her head. Elliot narrowed his eyes and said, "Do you by any chance have a tattoo?"

Now the woman spoke. "Yeah."

"What's your name?"

"Tabby."

"Okay, Tabby, do you mind if I have a look at your tattoo?"

She pulled up the back of her shirt just enough to show a colorful flower, possibly a lily, and Elliot knew he had the right person. "Pretty tat," said Elliot. "I've got a few myself. Tabby, can I talk to you in private over here?" He waved over to a quiet corner of the room, away from wandering eyes, and she followed him there and sat down next to him in a chair.

"Tabby," he said, folding his hands in between his knees, "I've been told that a guard sexually assaulted you, but we can't do anything about it unless you tell me that it happened. So is there something you want to tell me?"

Tabby glanced around the room and then back at him, her eyes like saucers. She said, "No, nothing like that happened."

Elliot sighed, and for once he felt angry toward a victim. The chances of him getting Olivia out of here depended on this woman's admission that she was assaulted, and he couldn't force her to come clean. "You're sure. Because she said a guard did it."

"Yeah," Tabby said, nodding weakly. "Nothing happened."

Elliot stood and paced a few steps and then turned to her and handed her his card. "Listen," he said, "If you change your mind and want to tell me something, I promise you'll be protected."

She nodded but turned her head away from him, indicating she was done with the conversation. Elliot scratched his ear and went back to Olivia's room, sitting softly on her bed as he tried to figure out how to break it to her. She looked at him expectantly, and he said, "I found our victim, and she won't talk."

"Aw, man," she said, throwing her head back on the pillow. "Elliot, I can't stay here. It's not safe."

"I agree," said Elliot. "But I don't know how to get you out, and without a complaining victim, I'm just trespassing. So let's figure out a system, in case you get into trouble."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Author's Comments:**__ Okay, right about here I thought I was almost done with this story, but I have to tell you guys, I have up to Chapter Eighteen, and the __**real **__awesome parts of the story are coming up—let's just say it has to do with how Elliot and Olivia try to resolve their issues…_

**Too Close**

Chapter Thirteen

Part 1.

Fin and Amanda had come to take Moses away while Elliot was trying to find the victim, so he had no other choice than to leave Olivia alone for another night in the horrid place and return to the precinct. He rested his head in his hands while the other detectives whispered bits and pieces about the case to one another, and he knew they were discussing Olivia's stay in the psych ward, the news fresh to most of them.

Fin emerged from the interrogation room to announce, "Well this guard isn't giving anything up. He's a real piece of work—been fired from two other security jobs for sexual harassment, and has a juvenile record for raping a much younger girl."

Elliot pounded his fist on the desk, frustrated at their inability to get the case off the ground. "It's all my fault she's in there," he mumbled.

Fin bent over him and said loudly, "It's not all about you, Stabler."

Nick snickered his agreement, but Elliot ignored them, too miserable to care about their opinions of something they knew nothing about.

George Huang ventured in and joined the discussion, saying, "Well, I finally heard back from the Office of Mental Health, and they aren't going to start an investigation until tomorrow. In the meantime, there's nothing I can do to get Olivia out of there."

"This is bogus," said Amanda. "You mean they have a right to just shock her into compliance? It's barbaric."

"I agree," said George. "Mental patients have a right to refuse ECT, and I'm completely against the procedure. It causes the brain to seizure, which is what leads to memory loss, and even loss of brain function. Plus, they aren't supposed to administer it without anesthetic and muscle relaxers, which is why her ankle fractured to begin with. The medications keep the body from convulsing with such intensity."

"I wish everyone would stop referring to her as a mental patient," said Elliot.

Amanda ignored the comment and said, "So what do we do in the meantime, to ensure that this doesn't happen again?"

"Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do until the state conducts its investigation," said George. "Their practices may be archaic and unethical, but they are still legal, as long as the hospital can provide some sort of justification."

"Well, I can't just sit here and do nothing," said Elliot, standing up and grabbing his coat. "I can at least park outside the facility, in case something does happen."

"How would you know if something does happen, Stabler?" said Nick.

"I have my ways," he yelled back over his shoulder.

Part 2.

Olivia lay in the darkness as memories began to flood back to her in no particular order. She recalled Dr. Romanov's face staring down at her as she was bound up in the basement, and then she remembered talking to Rita and handing her the note. An image of the entire trip downstairs to receive ECT came back to her in scattered pieces—the restraints, the elevator ride, the terrifying moment right before the nurse flipped the switch. She began to shiver, and pulled more blankets on top of her, to no effect.

And then she remembered the rape she witnessed. As clear as day, the scene played out in her mind, and she knew she had the key to leaving this place. Unable to sleep, she spent the rest of the long night huddled under the covers, trembling while she waited for 7 a.m. to arrive.

As soon as it did, she stumbled out of the bed and maneuvered her clunky cast over to her wheelchair. She wheeled herself into the common room, searching for the one face that she trusted to help her. "Rita," she said, spotting the woman now, "I need your help again."

"Sure," said Rita, and Olivia told her what to do.

As Olivia finished with her, Roberto appeared in the doorway and said, "Miss Olivia—I've been looking for you. Ready for your second round of treatments?"

"Second round?" she said, a wrench of fear tightening around her heart. "No."

"What do you mean no?" Roberto said, smiling. "Your treatment plan says daily ECT, so that's where we're going."

He got behind her and began to push her wheelchair, and she dragged her hands on the wheels, trying to slow their progress. "Man, am I going to have to call the nurse to sedate you?" he said.

Casting one last glance back at Rita, eyes pleading for her to hurry, she reluctantly raised her hands up and let him roll her to the elevator. "Roberto, can we just talk about this?" she said. "Maybe we could put this off for a little while."

"You'll have to take it up with Dr. Romanov," he said. "He's waiting for us in the basement."

As soon as the elevator doors closed, the world closed in on Olivia and all the blood drained from her head, and she thought she might pass out. She couldn't force herself to voluntarily get on the operating table again, and she knew that if it came to that, they would have to sedate her. She would fight this time, she was sure of it, and it might take twenty men to wrestle her onto that table if they didn't drug her.

Dr. Romanov was waiting for them in the procedure room, and she tried talking to him first. "Doctor," she said, her tone conciliatory, "I'm asking nicely, can I please have a break from ECT today? My foot hurts pretty bad, and I'm afraid I might reinjure it."

The evil doctor grinned and said, "I'm afraid we have to put your mental health above everything else. Isn't it more important that you no longer feel the urge to hurt yourself?"

She sighed and put her head down in resignation, and the doctor said, "I am thinking you could benefit from an extended stay here at the hospital. I will be petitioning the court to keep you longer so we can keep up with your treatment."

She looked up at him, her mouth falling open. "You're kidding me," she said.

"Not one bit," he said. "Roberto, will you get her ready?"

As Roberto helped her to her feet, adrenaline rushed through her, knocking out the mental fog that had held her down. All she had to do was take one look at the restraints, and she knew she could lift a Mack truck to get out of here if she had to. She glanced down at Roberto's side, honing in on the Taser on his belt, and then her elbow flew up and knocked him right in the nose, causing him to bend over in pain.

As Roberto tried to stave the stream of blood coming from his nose, Olivia leaned over and grabbed the Taser from him, steadying it in her hand and firing at him. He dropped to the floor, writhing in pain. She turned her head to see a stunned Dr. Romanov watching her with wide eyes. Then he began to move in on her as well, and she held the Taser toward him. "You stay away from me," she said, "or you'll get the same treatment you gave me."

Taser pointed squarely toward him, she sat down in the wheelchair and pushed herself awkwardly to the elevator, cursing at it to descend to the basement faster. Dr. Romanov stayed a few feet from her but followed her, stopping short when the elevator doors opened and she wheeled herself onto it. As the doors closed behind her, he charged the elevator, trying to get to them before they shut all the way, but it was too late. She sat waiting an eternity for the elevator to ascend, knowing that there had to be stairs, and nurses with syringes to boot.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Author's Comments:**_

**Too Close**

Chapter Fourteen

Part 1.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon," Olivia chanted as she waited for the ancient elevator to make it to the first floor. Then came the satisfying ding, and the doors opened, leaving Olivia with a clear path out to the hallway. She rolled her wheelchair about halfway out before Dr. Romanov leapt in front of her from the side, out of breath from sprinting up the stairs.

He leaned down and blocked her, pushing her chair backwards. "Nooo," she yelled, dragging her one good foot on the floor to halt her progress back into the elevator. She fumbled for the Taser, which clattered to the floor.

"Come on now, squirrel," he said, putting his hand on her neck and pushing backward with pressure on her throat. "You don't want to do this. It will only make things worse for you."

She tried to bring a knee up to his groin, but she moved so slow with the damned cast that he caught her leg with his hand, pulling upward and knocking her and her wheelchair off-balance. The room upended, and she helplessly lost all control of her orientation, her chair tipping over and spilling her onto the floor with a thump. He looked down at her and said, "Now maybe we can get back to business, squirrel."

Olivia panted and closed her eyes, knowing she had been defeated. "What did you just call her?" said Elliot's voice, and she opened her eyes again to see two pairs of feet in front of her.

"Excuse me, but you need to leave, Sir," said the doctor.

"You okay, Liv?" Elliot said, and she nodded. Turning his attention back to the doctor he said, "Are you Dr. Romanov?"

"Yes, I am," said the doctor, wearing his most indignant expression.

"Then you're under arrest, for interfering with an investigation," said Elliot, pulling the stunned doctor's hands behind his back and slamming him into the wall to cuff him. Then Elliot slammed the man against the wall again and said, "I think you owe Detective Benson an apology for being disrespectful."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said the doctor through clenched teeth.

Elliot spun the guy around, wrapping his fist in the doctor's shirt and shoving him hard against the wall so that his head bounced off it this time. Then he said, "You just called her a squirrel. I think you need to apologize, and address her by her proper name."

The doctor glanced down at her and said, "I'm sorry Ms. Benson."

"_Detective_ Benson," said Elliot through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the man's shirt, causing him to choke.

"Detective Benson," gagged Dr. Romanov, and Elliot loosened his grip.

Now Elliot turned his attention to Olivia, who had tears of relief running uncontrollably down her face. He righted her chair and bent over to pick her entirely up off the floor, honeymoon style, and then planted her gently into the chair. Still leaning over her, he caressed her cheek with his hand, brushing away a handful of tears. "Sure you're okay?" he said.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"You remember the rape now?" he said.

She nodded, choked up on tears. "Okay, then," he said, leaning down to kiss her on the side of the head. "You're a material witness now. Let's get you out of here."

Part 2.

Elliot looked over at Olivia sleeping on the passenger side of the car. She had told him that with her noisy roommate, the night she spent in the basement, and the memories flooding back, she hadn't gotten much sleep during her stay at the hellish psych ward. He let her rest during the entire ride back to Manhattan, looking over every few minutes to get a glimpse of her now-peaceful face.

And then he realized—she had lost some of her memories. He wondered whether she had lost the ones most devastating to their relationship—those intense moments when he had confronted her in a drunken rage and laid his hands on her, causing her to spiral into a hopeless depression.

When they got back to the station, he touched her shoulder to wake her, and she startled. "Oh, Jesus, El," she mumbled. "Don't scare me like that."

He had obtained some crutches for her at the hospital, and she used them like a pro already. When the elevator door opened onto their floor, she hesitated though, and he held the door open, saying, "What's wrong, Liv?"

"I can't go out there," she said. "I can't face everyone after I . . ."

"It's okay, Liv," he said, "They don't care that you were committed. They're all just worried about you. Besides, we have to do this—you have to get Huang to sign off on your release papers before we can go anywhere else, and you need to complete a witness statement so we can arrest Moses."

As she stepped off onto the floor, she said, "I probably look like crap."

"You look fine," he said.

She limped her way in, and a brief silence fell over the room as all the detectives turned their eyes toward her. Then she was greeted with smiles and warm greetings of, "Hey, Olivia," from several people. Amanda and Nick both approached her to welcome her, but Fin and Munch held back, and she knew they were just trying not to crowd her. Amanda gave her a warm hug, and she smiled, realizing that this was her family, and they weren't going to shun her as "the crazy one."

Munch approached her now, and she expected a smart-ass comment, but instead he smiled and said, "It's really good to see you, Liv. Glad you made it out of that rathole." Then he added, "You know, that's the new way they use to suppress opposition—it's easy to have people committed when they speak out against the authorities."

Fin elbowed Munch and gave her a hug as well, saying, "I'm so glad you're okay."

She sniffed a tear away and continued on to her desk. Cragan came out with a warm smile and said, "Liv, so glad you made it. Come talk to me when you get a chance."

She nodded and turned toward her desk, resting her crutches against it so she could get something out of it. One of the crutches fell over and clattered to the ground, and Nick bent down and said, "Here, I'll get it."

In that moment, Olivia had an episode of déjà vu, and memories popped into her head of Nick helping her pick up some papers she had dropped on the floor. She froze, spellbound, as she remembered Elliot standing too close, accusing Nick of flirting with her, and then her memories fast-forwarded to that evening and the fist fight that followed, ending with Elliot's hand around her throat after he slammed her against the wall.

Nick stood and, noticing her trance-like stare, said, "Everything okay, Liv?"

"I—I think I need to sit down," she said.

Elliot rushed in to help her to her seat, but she pulled her arm away from him and glared at him, saying, "I can do it myself."

Their eyes met, and she could tell in that moment that he understood what had just happened—that she remembered his drunken assault. As he stood there, staring at her like a dog begging, she turned her head away from him and buried herself in her computer monitor, ignoring his silent pleas.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's Comments: **__Okay, I guess I have been making one flawed assumption. I always thought that George Huang had an office he used at the precinct in addition to his FBI office, but then I re-watched "Florida", and realized he probably only has his FBI office. So for the sake of my story, play along with me . . . _

**Too Close**

Chapter Fifteen

Part 1.

Olivia sat down in the chair in front of George Huang's desk in his makeshift office at the precinct as he shut the door. "Olivia," he said as he returned to his desk, "I just want to apologize for everything that happened. I feel partly responsible—I should have been able to get you out of there."

"It's not your fault," she said softly.

"Still, I keep thinking of what I should have done, like maybe I could have called in some favors." He raised his eyes to meet hers, and said, "But let's talk about you. You understand that I have to conduct an evaluation so that I can approve your release from commitment, right?"

She nodded, and he said, "I'll try to make it as painless as possible. How do you feel right now?"

"I, uh—" she began, glancing down at her hands. "I'm still trying to process everything that happened to me in there, along with the events leading up to my commitment."

George looked down at her file and said, "Yeah, and I want to talk to you about what happened in there too. They finally released your records to me, and it confirms that you had ECT, without your consent, and unmodified at that. Did that scare you?"

"It did at the time, yeah," she said. "But you know George, I'm starting to consider having it done again—the proper way, of course—"

"What? Why, Olivia? In my professional opinion, I don't think your depression is severe enough to warrant that kind of treatment."

Her eyes met his now, and she said, "Because, I did forget some things. And if I can forget the things that made me depressed in the first place—the rape and torture that I endured, the problems with Elliot . . ."

She expected him to ask more questions about that last statement, but instead he said, "Elliot told me about how he physically assaulted you."

She paused, surprised that Elliot would confess to anyone, let alone George. "The point is," she said, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, "when I forgot all those things, they didn't haunt me so much anymore, and maybe that's what I need to feel better again."

"Olivia," George said, clasping his hands together, "it may seem like an easy solution, but you have to consider the side effects. The memory loss from ECT isn't selective. You sometimes forget things that are important to you as well, like the people you love. Some people forget who their own spouses and children are."

"Huh," she scoffed. "Don't have to worry about that."

"You don't think there are people who love you and care about you?" he asked. She stared out the window, chewing on a fingernail. "Besides, there are other consequences to ECT. Many people can't work anymore, can't function, because they lose important mental processes. People lose entire IQ points, go on disability because they can't think at work."

She shook her head and said, "Maybe you're right. But I still want to take some time to think about it."

George sighed and said, "I really hope you don't go through with it. There are so many other ways to get better—they may take longer, but you have such amazing gifts, and I would hate to see that part of you wilt away."

Part 2.

Amanda approached Olivia outside Huang's office, and they ducked into a quiet part of the hallway to talk. Amanda said, "I heard you're having trouble remembering some things. Do you remember the fight you had with Elliot?"

Olivia rubbed her forehead and said, "Yeah, that memory just came back to me."

Amanda nodded, saying, "If you want, you can come crash at my place tonight."

"Yeah," said Olivia, "I think that might be a good idea. Thanks."

As Amanda left her, Elliot came to her. "Hey," he said, his eyes full of longing. "Are you ready to go home?"

Olivia grimaced, saying, "You know, El, I think I'm going to crash with Amanda for a while."

Silence formed a wall between them. His lips pressed together, and then he said, "O-okay. Yeah, that's fine. You do what you need to do."

She took his hand in hers and said, "Look, Elliot, I really appreciate you being there to get me out of that place. I just . . . I just need some time to think."

He lifted his chin and said, "I know. It's fine, Liv." He hesitated and said softly, "Can I . . . can I kiss you?"

She smiled and said, "Sure."

He put his hand on the back of her neck, carefully drawing her head toward him so as not to pull her off balance, and she exhaled and put her lips to his, allowing their mouths to blend together in a tentative kiss. There was a tenderness in his lips, a softness that melted the igloo she had built around her heart. The suppleness of their contact created adult urges in her gut, and she pulled away to gasp the sweet air around her.

Fin turned the corner, and Elliot jolted back and wiped his mouth, guilt widening his eyes. Fin stopped in his tracks and said, "Whoa." Putting his hands up, he said, "I didn't see anything, going the other way now."

Elliot cast a fearful look in her direction, and then left her so he could chase down Fin. Olivia watched him go, and then leaned back against the wall, gulping down clumps of air. Nothing about the kiss with Elliot had frightened her—she wanted him in the worst of ways right now. But the thought of what could happen flashed through her head, and she didn't know if she could risk ever letting him close enough to hurt her like that again.

Part 3.

Elliot followed Fin to the lockers, and said, "Hey, you're not going to say anything, are you?"

Fin narrowed his eyes at Elliot and curled his lip up, saying, "Nah. I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt Liv's career. But you guys gotta be more careful, man. Anyone coulda walked up on you. How long you two been—nah, nevermind. I don't even want to know."

"Thanks, bro," said Elliot, patting him on the shoulder.

"I'm not your bro," said Fin. "I'm doing this for Liv. Plus, it's not my thing to rat a brother out, ya know?"

Fin disappeared from the room, and Elliot sat down on a bench and sunk his head into his hands. All this time, he had been waiting for Olivia to get out so he could make up with her and take care of her and show her how much he cared about her. But now he knew the effects of his actions couldn't be erased by a few days space and a dramatic rescue.

But having her so close, seeing her in the flesh, and not being able to touch her soft skin and luscious hair, was torture of the worst kind. And now he feared that the damage he did might be irreparable—what if she never wanted to be with him again? He just didn't know how to go back to the way things used to be. He got up and kicked the lockers, opening his to collect his things so he could go home alone.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Author's Comments: **__I would like to title this chapter (and the next one), "Elliot Gets Schooled."_

**Too Close**

Chapter Sixteen

Part 1.

Amanda brought a cup of hot tea over to the coffee table and set it in front of Olivia, who reclined on the couch in the younger detective's living room. "So, they said you lost some of your memories?" said Amanda.

Olivia picked up the cup and took two sips from it, and then said, "Yeah, for a little while I did. I still have big chunks missing from my time in the psych ward."

"So what do you remember about the fight you had with Elliot?" Amanda asked.

Olivia gathered the pieces of her recent past into a pile in her mind and said, "I remember what he did. I remember the wild look in his eyes, and how I felt demolished afterwards." She looked up from her coffee cup and said, "So yeah, pretty much all of it."

Amanda leaned forward, letting her long blonde hair hang over her knees, and said, "So what's going to happen with you two?"

"I—I don't know," said Olivia. "I want us to be happy together, like we were before. I want to go back to living with him. I want his arms around me—"

"But you know it's dangerous to do that, right?"

Olivia dunked her teabag a couple of times and said, voice barely above a whisper, "Yeah." She didn't like the way Amanda pointed out the obvious, but she knew her friend just wanted to protect her. "I don't think he'll do it again, but he needs to get control of his anger before we can work things out."

"Yeah," said Amanda. "And it's not just about the physical aggression. Look at the way he tried to control you—how he drank too much, and got jealous, and lorded it over you."

Olivia looked up at her, drawing her eyebrows together. "Yeah, he did do that, didn't he? You know, it's funny, I've never let a man hit me before. But for some reason, Elliot was the one who got away with it. Maybe I was too blinded by love to see the warning signs."

"Yeah, and it's not right," said Amanda. "You need to make sure he understands that before you let him go right back to his old behaviors."

Olivia nodded and said, "I know."

After Amanda retired to her bedroom, Olivia hauled her cast-covered foot onto the couch and fell into a heavy sleep, relaxed by the fact that she was finally safe in a place where she could let her guard down completely. It seemed like she had barely started to doze off before she was in the basement again, yanking against her restraints with all her might. "Someone get me out of here," she begged, but nobody came to help.

A face appeared above her, and at first she was relieved to see that it was Elliot. But his eyes shone on her with intensity, and she knew he was enraged at her again. His hands wrapped around her throat, choking her, and she couldn't fight back with her restrained hands and broken foot. She lay there helplessly as he wrung the last bit of life out her, and then she heard Amanda's voice say, "Olivia, wake up."

Her eyes popped open, and Amanda peered down at her with worried eyes. "You okay?" she said. "You were yelling out that you needed help."

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Olivia, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she caught her breath. "Just having a nightmare."

"Alright, it's okay," said Amanda. "You're safe now, you know."

Olivia nodded and shuddered from the dream, and Amanda wordlessly sat at her feet as she fell back asleep.

Part 2.

As sunlight brightened the room, Amanda engaged in a flurry of activity to get ready for work. When she noticed Olivia's eyes open, she said, "Hey, Liv, I was wondering if you might want to go in to the precinct with me today. Just so you won't have to sit around by yourself all day."

Olivia knew the real reason Amanda wanted her to come along—she was afraid Olivia might try to end her own life again. But she couldn't blame Amanda for not wanting to find Olivia dead in her own apartment. "Sure, I'd like that," she said.

At the office, Elliot did a double take when he saw Olivia hobble onto the floor, and for a moment he looked as if he considered coming over to help her. But he checked her out one more time, and then he buried himself in his work. Olivia sat at her desk most of the day, going over her file and compiling a timeline of events at the psych ward, stopping to chat with co-workers as they came by to keep her company.

Elliot went about his business until the day got late, and then he came by and leaned over her, saying, "Can I talk to you a minute?"

She limped behind him, her crutches squeaking with each step, until they reached the locker room. He turned toward her, rubbing a spot behind his ear, and said, "So where do we go from here?"

She shook her head and said, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, how long are we going to stay apart before you give me a chance to prove myself?"

She squinted at him and said, "It's only been one day since I got out, Elliot."

He looked up at the ceiling and back down at her, saying, "Well, how much time do you need? Just so I have an idea." Irritation balled up in her chest as he continued, saying, "I'm dying here. Can you just cut me some slack?"

Her mouth fell open. "Cut you some slack? Come on, El, I'm trying to get myself back together."

His eye twitched as he said, "Okay, let's have it then. You're pissed off—I get that. So let me have it."

She shook her head and lowered her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"You know," he said. "I can see it in your face. You want to get your anger out, so just do it. Hit me."

"What?"

"You heard me, just hit me. As hard as you can. As many times as you want. Let it all out."

She glared at him and said, "I don't want to hit you, Elliot."

The muscles in his face tightened, and he said, "C'mon, you'll feel better. Just do it." When she didn't move, he raised his voice and said, "C'mon, have at it—hit me. What, you gonna just keep it all bottled in? Get out all that anger and put it on me."

"No, Elliot—"

"Liv, just do it."

She articulated her next words slowly, saying, "Elliot, leave me alone. I'm done talking to you."

She saw the same anger darken his eyes that she had become all too familiar with, and he said, "So what are you going to do then, give up?"

She lowered her voice to a growl and said, "You're an asshole, you know it?"

"I know I am. But at least I'm trying to fix that, so that maybe we can have a future together. What are you going to do?"

"What am I going to do?" she said through clenched teeth. "I'm going to take care of myself. I think I've already paid the price, don't you? _I _had your hands wrapped around my throat until I almost passed out, remember?"

"Shhh. . ." he said, looking back toward the doorway.

One crutch clattered to the ground as she fell toward him, her fist flying up reflexively to pound on his chest while her voice grew louder. "_I _got depressed enough to kill myself. _I'm _the one who got locked away in an insane asylum from medieval times."

Elliot's eyes grew wide as she dropped the other crutch and used both hands to pummel his chest. She wasn't able to get the distance she needed to do serious damage with her fists, because any sudden movement threw her off balance. But she leaned into him to leverage herself, and her punches must have made some impact, because Elliot flinched with each blow. "_I'm _the one who has nightmares of you choking me, you mother fucker." Tears flew out of her eyes as her fists flew into him over and over, and she yelled, "You are an _asshole_, Elliot Stabler. _You're _the one with the anger problem, you son of a bitch."

She kept pounding on him, grunting with every blow. Elliot's back was against the lockers, preventing him from backing up. He took the punches for a while, and then his hands went up defensively, and he tried to grab her arms to block her. Olivia kept up her assault, however, not noticing that nearly everyone from SVU had started to spill into the locker room to see what all the commotion was about.

"I hate you," she screamed. "I fucking hate you, and I—"

She stopped herself, debating whether she should let the next few words go, and then said through tears and gritted teeth, "And I'll be glad if I never see you again."

Elliot's face fell, his eyes transforming from dark and brooding to sad and empty. Fin was at her side now, and he pulled her arm around his shoulder so he could guide her away from Elliot. Munch got on her other side, and Nick bent down to pick up her crutches off the floor. They helped her out of the locker room and into an interview room, where she sat shaking, crying from the adrenaline produced by her rage.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Author's Comments: **__This story is titled after the song of the same name by Alex Claire, of course. I almost called it "Love the Way You Lie," after the Eminem song, but thought "Too Close" fit more with the theme of the entire story. Of course, now I see how well that song would have fit as well. I also considered "Turning Tables," by Adele. If anyone hasn't seen the fan video to that song on Youtube, I highly recommend it. _

**Too Close**

Chapter Seventeen

Part 1.

Olivia sat with her head in her hands, her sobs coming in deep gulps that kept the air from reaching her lungs. Now that the tears were turned on, it seemed like she couldn't turn them off—that she would die here from the suffocation of her own sadness. Amanda, who had followed her into the room, pulled up a chair and sat next to her, rubbing her back. "It's okay, Liv," she said. "Just take it easy—deep breaths."

Just as Olivia started to become lightheaded, she noticed her breathing slowing down automatically, and she began the hopeless task of trying to wipe the tears away faster than they replenished themselves. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I don't know what happened—I just lost it."

"Stabler happened," said Amanda. "Just take your time, it's okay."

"Did I miss something?" said Munch, who was still standing there with Fin, looking puzzled.

"Man, how can you be so clueless?" said Fin. "Haven't you figured out by now that Elliot and Olivia got a thing going?"

Fin said it right as Captain Cragan walked into the room to find out what had caused his squad room to empty out. He pursed his lips and said, "Okay, everybody out of here except Olivia."

The detectives emptied out of the room, their heads hanging, and Cragan pulled up a chair next to Olivia, who was fighting to put the brakes on her gasping breaths. "Liv," he said, laying a hand gently on her back. "What's going on? You okay?"

She nodded, although she knew that she looked a chaotic mess. The captain hesitated, and then said, "So is it true about you and Elliot?"

He said it a lot more gently than his usually stern voice, and she decided to confide in him. "Yeah, it's true. I'm sorry for keeping it from you, but I wanted to be able to stay in the same unit."

"Okay," he said, surprising her. "Let me think about it. You two aren't partners anymore—"

"No, it's okay. I've changed my mind," she said softly. "I don't want to work with him anymore."

Cragan was left speechless, but after he looked away in contemplation, he said, "So who do you suggest I move?"

She looked at him, her jaw tight, and said, "I don't want to leave SVU."

She could tell he was sympathetic, but when he didn't say anything, she knew he was wondering if she would even come back to work, considering her mental state.

Part 2.

While everyone else was escorting Olivia away, Nick lingered behind in the locker room. Elliot didn't notice him at first, busy staring at nothing as he sat like a stone on the bench. He ran over the scenario again and again in his mind, trying to figure out what made him push her once again. The fact that he had obsessed over her all night, thinking about how bad he wanted her back, was no excuse for acting like an ass all over again.

He glanced up when he noticed Nick still standing there, watching him. Finally, Nick spoke. "I heard what she said, Stabler. I was just outside when you were talking, and I heard what Olivia said. Is it true that you choked her?"

Now Elliot looked up at him, not knowing what to say. Nick stepped toward him, until he was standing right in front of him. "Well, is it true?" said Nick, his biceps flexing.

"I, uh . . ." Elliot said, suddenly sweating. "Yeah, we had a fight, and it got physical."

"It got physical," said Nick, yelling now. "And you had to choke her?"

Elliot started to look up, but Nick's knee smacked him in the chin, and knocking him off the bench and onto his back. And then Nick was on top of him, driving his fist into Elliot's face. "You son of a bitch, you could've killed her! Is that how you vent your anger, huh? By beating up on Liv?"

Elliot tried to block the blows, but Nick kept getting one more in, and Elliot started to feel dizzy. Then someone yanked Nick off him, and it took Elliot a few seconds to reorient himself and see that it had taken two people—Fin and Huang—to drag Nick away from him.

Elliot struggled to his feet and took two deep breaths, putting his hand to his nose and pulling it away only to find blood on his fingers. Nick glared at him, posturing one last time before huffing out of the room. George said, "I'll go get a towel and an ice pack," and left too.

Fin approached Elliot now, saying, "If I find out what he said was true—you better hope I don't run into you alone. Somehow, I have a feeling Olivia could beat yo ass if she needed to, but if you ever touch her—I'm comin' after you, Stabler."

Fresh blood came gushing out of Elliot's nose, and he tried to stem the tide with his shirt. George came in with a hand towel and some ice in a baggie, and Elliot said, "I think one of my teeth is loose."

George escorted him out of the locker room, but Cragan was waiting for him out in the hallway. "What the hell is going on in my squad room?" he asked. Elliot knew better than to answer that question. Cragan said, "Seems like chaos just follows when you and Olivia are in the same place. I want you in George's office, right now."

Part 3.

Elliot passed by the window of the witness room where Olivia was sitting, and she watched him walk by, her eyebrows lowering at the blood on his face. Elliot parked himself in a chair across from George, looking up in shock when Olivia hobbled in, Cragan directing her. "I want you to have a chat with these two," said Cragan to George, "and I want you to tell me if there's any chance they can ever work in the same unit together."

The captain shut the door, and Elliot glanced over at Olivia, who avoided eye contact with him by staring straight ahead at George. George looked daunted at the task presented to him, but he turned his attention to Olivia and said, "Liv, what is it you want to say?"

Venom practically oozed from her, and she said, "I have nothing to say to him."

"Then say it to me," said George. "Because I've already heard from Elliot, and I want to hear what you have to say."

She paused, and then said, "Okay. That night—when he _hit _me and _choked _me, I was floored. I couldn't believe someone who claimed to love me so much could attack me so viciously." Her tears must have been near the surface already, because she had to wipe them away steadily now. "I felt . . . so small, and so meaningless. And it's not just the physical assault. When he would tear me down verbally, I felt like I didn't matter at all—like I was a piece of dirt under his foot."

A lump gathered in Elliot's throat, and he swallowed hard. Olivia finished by saying, "And I never want to feel that way again. So I think it's best that we just stay apart."

Saltiness stung Elliot's bleeding cheek, the reality of the damage he had done to her finally settling in. George nodded, turning his head toward Elliot. "Elliot," he said calmly, "what do you have to say to that?"

Elliot held a finger to his lips, lost in thought. "I, uh . . ." he said, barely able to speak through the tears choking him. "I never meant to make you—"

"Elliot," interrupted George. "Say it to me, not her."

Elliot blinked, turning his head toward George. "I never meant to make her feel small. That's not how I see her at all. When Kathy left me for another man," he said, noticing that Olivia flinched at this new revelation, "I thought I was bound to die lonely and angry. But when Liv came into my life again, she was so . . . perfect. Even in her wounded state, she was graceful, and stunning, and awe-inspiring . . . I couldn't believe that God himself hadn't come down to sweep her away for Himself. The fact that she loved _me_, just astounded me."

He glanced over at her face, and although she kept her eyes pointed toward George, her face melted just the slightest bit. He continued on. "And so, when I saw her slipping out of my hands, I was so afraid of losing her, that I held onto her as tightly as I could." His voice softened. "Now I see how bad I hurt her—that I was smothering her. And that was the _last _thing I wanted for her."

Without looking at him, she said, "Then why did you continue to hurt me, even today—even after all I've been through."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Liv," he said, trying to catch her gaze. "After I found you in that hotel room . . . I never wanted to lose you that way again, so I pushed you to get better. It's wrong, and it's stupid, and I don't have a good excuse. It was my desperate attempt to keep you alive, so I could have you again." He turned toward George again and said, "And now I see how misguided that was. I just want to see her happy, even if it means I'm no longer in her life."

George nodded, and Elliot turned his whole body toward her and said sincerely, "So please, do whatever you need to do to get better. I'll step away. I just want you to have all the happiness you deserve, even if it means I have to watch it from a distance." He took in her entire being one more time, in all its glory, and stood to walk out.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's Comments: **__This might be my favorite chapter. Almost had me in tears… _

**Too Close**

Chapter Eighteen

Part 1.

The icy wall around Olivia's heart dripped away the slightest bit while Elliot was openly discussing his inner state of turmoil. She would have a hard time trusting him again after all the times he had brought her down, but his heartfelt talk was a start. When he got up to leave, panic set in, and she stood to follow him, but almost lost her balance from the damned cast.

George stopped her with his words. "Liv, I want to talk to you."

She stumbled back into the chair, hanging her head. "Olivia," he said. "What Elliot did was wrong. But I'm concerned that you're making bad decisions too."

Her face flushed, anger rising to the surface. "So I suppose you're going to tell me what I need to do now too?"

"No, not at all," he said. "But there's got to be a reason you've let Elliot treat you that way. What is it that you've gotten out of his warped sense of love?"

When she couldn't think of an answer, he said, "Plus, I am concerned about you still. If you don't work on the depression, and the things that led up to you choosing Elliot as a partner, you'll just repeat those same bad decisions."

"So what do I do?" she said, resigned to accept advice from the only mental health professional she trusted.

"Obviously you need to search out answers in counseling—maybe a domestic violence group would help—but you already know that. What I think would help you the most right now is if you take a step back from Elliot, like you started to do already. Learn to disengage from him, no matter how hard he tries to drag you into a fight. And get some space from him, so you can learn to recognize when he's being irrational."

She nodded, and said, "Okay."

"And take care of _you_," he said. "You are still in a fragile state. You have to nurture yourself, or you will end up in trouble again."

"Yeah," she said. "I can see that."

Part 2.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Olivia, and she was all too obliging when Amanda said to her, "Hey, wanna go home now?"

As they approached the elevators, however, Elliot stood waiting for the next one, still holding a bloody towel up to his nose. Olivia studied his banged-up face while he tried to avoid eye contact. She gulped, working up the courage to say, "Elliot, can I talk to you for a minute?"

She glanced at Amanda, who rolled her eyes and said, "You two go on down, I'll take the next one."

On the way down, Olivia looked into his swollen face, but he glanced everywhere except at her. "Elliot," she said, "I'm sorry for what Nick did."

"I'm not," he said. "I deserved it."

"No. Ya didn't," she said. After pausing, she said, "Well, maybe you did. But I'm still sorry it happened."

"Not your fault," he said. He hesitated a few seconds, and pushed the "close door" button to keep the elevator shut. Then he looked at her like he finally saw her, and said, "Liv, I don't deserve you."

"Elliot—"

"No. It's best for you if you just stay away from me. When I saw your eyes today while you were screaming at me, it reminded me of the way you looked when I hit you, and I don't ever want to see that hurt in your face again." He closed his eyes, and then blinked them open, saying, "You don't deserve a guy like me. You deserve someone who's going to see the angel inside you and treat you like a queen."

She sucked her lips in and said, "So be the man I deserve, Elliot. Be the man I know you can be."

"I'm trying," he said, the muscles in his face tightening. "But I don't know how. I chased Kathy away . . ."

She straightened herself like a column, even with the crutches, and said, "I saw the man I want, El. When you swooped in after I was raped, and took care of me, that was the Elliot I want. When you showed up at the psych ward and brought me a change of clothes, and helped me into bed so gently, that was the Elliot I needed." She emphasized her next words. "Just be _that_ _man_, Elliot."

He stood there like an idiot, and she felt sorry for him. When she began to wonder if he would ever figure it out, he took his finger off the button and the elevator doors opened. Olivia watched as Elliot walked away, out of the elevator and past Amanda, who acted nonchalant, leaning against a wall.

She rushed over to help Olivia out of the elevator, saying, "Everything okay, Olivia?"  
"Yeah," Olivia said softly, "let's go home."

Part 3.

Olivia lay on her back on Amanda's couch, pretending to be asleep. "Liv," Amanda whispered, tapping her on the arm, "Liv, wake up."

Olivia rubbed her eyes and mumbled, "What's up?"

Amanda squatted next to her, fully clothed. "I just thought maybe . . . you'd like to come to work with me again?"

"It's okay," said Olivia, comfortable lounging in her favorite cotton pajamas, "you go ahead without me."

It was Friday, but Olivia was barely aware of that fact, having been lost in a maze of hospitals and broken time for so long now. The corners of Amanda's lips curled under, and she said, "You sure? Because, I mean, we could go to lunch together and everything. I'm sure everyone would love to see you again. We've all missed you—"

"Amanda, just stop," said Olivia, struggling to sit upright. "I know what you're trying to do, but I'm not going to do anything—I promise."

Amanda tilted her head to the side, and Olivia said, "In fact, if you're worried, go ahead and take anything I might use, like medications, alcohol, razors—"

"Olivia," said Amanda, lowering her eyes at her. "I don't need to do that. If you say you'll be safe, I trust you."

"Good," said Olivia, "because I really don't want to see Elliot today."

"I understand completely," Amanda said, smirking.

Olivia spent the day alternating between resting, to resupply the energy that was sucked out of her from her stay at the psych ward, and calling around to find a domestic violence group. That evening, she and Amanda ate dinner together, and though Olivia appreciated the company, staying in someone else's home was awkward to her, even if she was completely welcome.

Late at night, she lay awake in bed, anxious thoughts pelting her, preventing her from sleeping. For the third night in a row, she awoke sweaty and restless from nightmares, after only a couple of hours of rest. Saturday, she slept in late to wake up to the smell of bacon. Amanda brought her a tray with a full breakfast, complete with orange juice, and Olivia smiled when she had a thought that maybe she should just marry Amanda.

"You're a good wifey," Olivia joked, and Amanda spit out crumbs from her toast as she laughed. They giggled for a while, and then Olivia said, "Hey, would you mind to do me a favor?"

"What is it you want, dear?" chuckled Amanda.

"I need to pick up some more clothes. Can you take me by Elliot's place?"

Amanda spilled out a few leftover laughs, and then abruptly got silent. Trying to hide her reluctance, she said, "Sure, Liv. No problem."


	19. Chapter 19

_**Author's Comments: **_

**Too Close**

Chapter Twenty

"Hello?" said Elliot's grainy voice over the intercom.

"Elliot, it's me—can I come up for a few minutes?"

"Liv? Hold on." The familiar buzz sounded, and Olivia crutched her way into the building with Amanda's help. Olivia appreciated Amanda being there for her, and thought her friend might be coming along for protection. But to Olivia, it felt too much like a chaperone, and she secretly wished she could be alone with Elliot in his apartment.

Elliot's door swung open, and he smiled at first, his grin disappearing when he saw Amanda with her. "I . . . need to get some things," said Olivia.

A beat passed while Elliot processed this new information, and then he said, "Sure, come on in."

Olivia went into the bedroom, Elliot close behind, and Amanda hung back in the living room, perhaps sensing that they needed space. Elliot wordlessly pulled a duffle bag out of the closet while Olivia began to rummage through the dresser. He held the bag open as she placed some clothing in it, and when she glanced up, she noticed his face still reddened from the beating he took. Reflexively, she reached up to touch his wounded cheek, and his eyes met hers. Then he captured her hand in his and pulled it to his mouth to kiss it gingerly.

"I'm sorry," he said, blinking. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay," she said, allowing her hand to stay in his. She shut her eyes and relished his skin on hers, caressing his hand with her thumb.

Opening her eyes again, she saw him studying her face, and he said, "You look tired."

"Yeah, I haven't slept much lately."

"May I?" he said, placing his free hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah," she nodded.

He dug his fingers into her neck muscles, and she nearly passed out from the pleasure. "You're so tense," he said, massaging the back of her neck, right at her hairline, between his thumb and fingers.

She moaned her bliss, words escaping her in the ecstasy of his touch. "I miss this," she whispered.

"Me too," he said.

"I'm doing okay, but the nightmares are getting to me," she said, deciding to risk it and share herself with him. "Everything that's happened lately—it seems like too much for one person."

His fingers halted as he said, "Well, you know what they say. God only gives you what you can handle."

"That's bullshit," she said. "If I could handle it, why did I try to end my own life? And why is God giving me rape and torture anyway? Doesn't seem very merciful to me."

He smiled at her cleverness and began to work his fingers into her shoulders, using his other hand now too. "You know," he said, "for what it's worth, I haven't had a drink since that night we fought."

She nodded, trying to concentrate through the heaven of his fingertips kneading her flesh. "You find a counselor?" she asked.

"Yeah, had my first session today. Already, I feel like I'm learning a lot about how to diffuse my anger."

"Sign up for anger management?" she said.

"Uh-huh," he said. "I start next week."

She tightened her lips, and then brought her hands to his sides, running one of them along the edge of his back. His muscles protruded through his shirt in that fabulous way she loved, and she decided to act on her impulses. Placing her hand behind his head, she pulled him to her until their lips met and hungrily discovered one another once again.

"Mmm . . ." she groaned, feeling the familiar tingle in her abdomen that pulled her toward him like a magnet.

Their mouths explored one another, whipping up a refreshing blend of lips and tongues. Then Olivia pulled back, licking her lips. She knew it was too soon to give him another chance—the distance between them had not grown more than a hair yet. But she had to have him—she knew this too.

In the end, hormones won out, and she sighed, gathering the courage to face Amanda. The blonde was rifling through a book on handguns sitting on Elliot's coffee table, and she looked up curiously. Then, it was as if she knew, because a smirk made its way onto her lips. "Amanda," said Olivia, "I'm, uh—I'm going to stay here for a little while. Elliot will bring me back."

Amanda sighed and got up to leave. She stopped in front of Olivia, but kept her eyes straight ahead. "No," she said. "I'm not going to say anything. This is your decision. Call me if you need anything, but this is the last time . . ." She decisively left it at that, and strode out the front door.

Olivia stared into space for a moment, and then Elliot's hand on her neck jolted her out of her trance. "You don't have to do this," he said. "I'm fine with waiting—"

Her eyes turned to him, and she said, "I'm ready, El. I want to spend some time with you."

He paused, glancing at the bathroom, and said, "You want me to run you a hot bath?"

She smiled. "Yeah, that sounds nice." And then, a moment of panic consuming her, she said, "This doesn't mean we're automatically going back to the way things were."

He nodded, saying, "I know. However much time you need." His eyes moistened as he said, "Even if this is our last time together."

As Elliot started the bathwater, Olivia recalled all the victims of domestic violence she had spoken with over the years. Many of them had told her that they tried reconciling with their abusers, but found that all the feelings they had for their man were gone. Yet Olivia still felt giddy like a schoolgirl around him, and she knew that was a good sign that her heart had not yet given up on him.

He gently eased her into the bathtub, helping her rest her cast on the edge of the bathtub. She sighed and closed her eyes, realizing that this was the first time she had been able to take a bath since she broke her foot. Elliot disappeared into the bedroom, and just as she wondered what he was doing in the other room, she began to hear music playing. As she listened carefully, she heard that it was "Don't Want to Miss a Thing," by Aerosmith.

Elliot left her alone for the duration of several songs, all of which were love songs, and she had to wonder if he made a mix CD especially for her. "Elliot, I'm ready to get out," she yelled.

He popped into the bathroom carrying one of his own robes, and she let the water out. He stood still for a moment, silently admiring her naked body, and she smiled. Getting her out of the bathtub was an awkward task, and he finally just gave up and lifted her whole body at once. When she was standing, he draped his robe around her, and it hung loosely, but it was surprisingly soft and warm.

"Why don't you come in the bedroom and I'll work some of the kinks out of your muscles?" he said.

"I'd like that," she said, and he escorted her into the bedroom, dark except for lit candles placed around the room.

"I've got some hot tea on the nightstand," he said, helping her to the bed, and then lifting her leg onto it.

The spicy scent from the tea wafted under her nose, and she lifted the cup to blow on the hot concoction. As she did, he sat down at her feet, lifting her good foot into his hands and massaging the bottom of it with his thumbs. "Mmmm . . ." she said, closing her eyes reflexively.

After finishing with her foot, he kissed it and set it gently down on the bed again. Then he moved up her body with tiny soft kisses, until he got to her thighs, where he stopped. Now he brought his attention to her neck, pulling her skin in between his lips while he kneaded her shoulders with sturdy hands. "Ah, El, that is so good," she said, all her muscles relaxing spontaneously.

He paused his pampering for a moment to slide off his jeans, and she said, "El—"

"It's okay," he said. "I'm not expecting anything from you. I just want to lie next to you, and I'm getting comfortable just in case we fall asleep."

She smiled as he brushed her hair away from her temple, where he planted his lips in another gentle kiss. He wrapped her up in safety with his arms, and she sighed, reluctant to break the mood. "Good," she said finally, "because I've been thinking about why I allowed things to get so bad, and I think I know the answer."

Elliot rolled onto his back now, folding his hands behind his head. Olivia's heart jumped, and she looked over to see if he was mad. Not seeing any traces of anger in his face, she said, "My whole life, I've never had anyone to rely on. It's been just me, and it's been lonely." She glanced over at him again, and he was watching her face as she talked. "Then when you stepped in when I needed you the most, for the first time ever, I had someone taking care of me—treating me special, pampering me in a way I'm not used to. I wasn't used to that, and once I had it, I would do practically anything to keep it, even putting up with alcoholic barrages from a jealous lover."

Elliot winced, but she got the feeling it was more out of shame than anger. She decided it was safe to keep talking. "But I don't want to fall into that trap again. I don't want to rely on someone else to make me feel safe, because I can't ever guarantee that the other person is going to be there for me."

Elliot gulped and said, "I'm sorry that I've been unreliable, and I know you need to be independent. But I want you to know, I do understand that I crossed the line—several times in fact. And I know that it's never okay to lay hands on you, no matter what you say or do to me. I can't promise that I'll never slip up again and get snippy, but I can say that I've drawn a line in my mind that I can never cross again."

She smiled weakly at him and said, "I believe you mean that. And over time, maybe you can show that to me."

He laid his hand on her cheek, caressing it as he revered her presence, and then brought his arm around her body in a snug embrace. She got lost in the warmth of his body next to her, and her eyes fell closed, heavy with sleep. For the first night in weeks, she slept through the night, Elliot's arms around her, without horrible images plaguing her dreams.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's Comments: **__ Heck, no. I wouldn't just leave it like that. I am a pretty bad tease though, am I not?_

**Too Close**

Chapter Twenty

Part 1.

The faint stench of faded cologne mixed with sweat from sleep woke her. He was still mostly in the same position as last night, taut arms clutching her like a favorite doll. He had moved in even closer though, his head burrowed into her shoulder now. She ran her fingers lightly over his hair, amazed as always at how much softer it was than it looked.

Her lips touched his forehead, planting a gentle kiss. He startled and began to stretch, hands running over her belly as he realized she was still lying next to him. Raising his head to bring his lips to hers, he kissed them softly and said, "I thought I was dreaming for a minute."

She grinned and said, "So you weren't tortured by being so close without—"

"Shhh," he said. "I'm glad you're here. Now, I wouldn't turn anything down . . ."

"Elliot—"

"But you don't have to—"

"Elliot, I want to, I do. I nearly gave into impulses last night, believe me. And I really appreciate everything you did for me." He got quiet, and she shifted nervously. "I think it's best that we wait, though, just to see how things go."

He looked up at her with calm eyes and said, "I understand. And you don't ever have to pay me back for pampering you. You deserve it."

She swept her hand down his cheek, trying to fight a tear threatening to break free. "What's wrong?" he said.

"I just . . ." She had to fight to get the next words out. "I think we shouldn't see each other for a while."

For a few seconds, he just stared at her, and she wished he would react, even if it was just to yell at her, so she would know what he was thinking. Finally, he said, "If that's what you want, that's fine with me."

Her shoulders tightened as if he had never relaxed them with his hands, but he didn't give her the silent treatment. Instead, he held her hand in his and said, "You let me know when you're ready to leave."

After she burrowed into him for a few more minutes, he helped her get dressed, and when Amanda knocked on the door, he helped her to it. Unable to leave without feeling those greedy lips against hers one last time, she leaned in and kissed him, driving her mouth against his like tomorrow would never come. He pushed himself into the kiss, grabbing her hair and sending chills all the way down to her feet, and she thought he might not let go.

Amanda knocked again, and they reluctantly pulled away from one another, pressing their foreheads together. "Coming," shouted Olivia at the door. She drove her gaze hard into him one more time and opened the door, never looking back.

Part 2.

Elliot threw himself into his work, trying not to think about the object of his obsession. It had been almost five weeks since he saw Olivia last, but he still thought about her every minute. Staying true to his word, he stayed in anger management, and saw a counselor once a week, and didn't touch a drop of alcohol. But none of it did any good if the person who triggered him was not in the picture.

He tried to remind himself that it wasn't pointless, that this was for his own good. Even if he never dated anyone again, all his efforts would at least help diffuse the tension between him and the other detectives, who glared at him in distrust when they saw him. Even Munch, who used to have no ill will against him, shook his head and grimaced when he saw Elliot's face.

He didn't know how much longer he could stay here, without her, and without the respect of his fellow co-workers. But he kept plugging along, because he had no place else to turn.

"Can I help you?" he said to a woman who walked off the elevator, eyes darting around as if she was looking for someone.

"I need to see Olivia Benson," she said.

"She's on leave right now, can I—" Elliot stopped when he recognized the woman who had called him when Olivia needed to be saved from the psych ward. "Rita?" he said.

"Yeah, you're Elliot, right?" she said. "I almost forgot what you looked like. I'll never forget your name though."

"Yeah . . . yeah, how are you?" he said, his voice softening as he held out a hand for her to shake.

"I'm doing great," she said, grabbing his hand in hers. Her eyes turned serious. "Much better now that I'm out of that shithole—oops, I'm sorry—"

"No, no. It's okay," said Elliot. "What brings you here?"

"I . . . I just wanted to see Olivia, to thank her. And you too," she added. "I heard that place nearly got shut down after you guys got an investigation going. And the guard—Moses—he's in jail, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." When she sighed in relief, he said, "Did something happen to you in there?"

"Not really," she said, glancing at the door as if still wary of guards venturing in on their conversation. "Moses did make some sexually suggestive comments, but he never touched me."

Elliot's gaze pierced her, and he said, "Rita, we may be able to use you as a witness—would you be willing to testify against Moses at trial?"

She hesitated, and then said, "Yeah. Sure, I will do that."

Elliot smiled and said, "Thank you. That may help put him away." Lowering his eyebrows, he said, "Would you be willing to wait here for a little while? I may be able to get Olivia down here so you can talk to her."

She nodded. "Yeah, I have no place to be."

Goosebumps formed on Elliot's arms as he scooted around to the phone on his desk and began to dial Olivia's number. "Hello?" she said, sounding puzzled at receiving a call from a precinct phone.

"Olivia?" he said.

Her voice lifted as she said, "Elliot?"

"Hey, Liv. I don't know if you can come down here or not, but I have someone here who wants to see you."

"Who is it?"

"It's a surprise. Can you make it?"

There was silence on the other end, and then she said, "I just got my cast off yesterday. So yeah, okay. I'll be down there in ten or so."

Elliot sat Rita down in a chair and paced, trying to keep busy while waiting for Olivia. Every time the elevator doors opened, he walked over to see who it was. Finally, they opened and deposited her, neatly dressed, hair perfect, and graceful as ever. Elliot could even swear that she glowed.

She beamed when she saw him, saying, "Who's here? And why all the secrecy?"

"This way," he said, touching her elbow to guide her.

When she saw Rita, her eyes lit up and her mouth fell open. "Wow," she said, walking right through Rita's outstretched hand to lean and give her a hug. "You look so much better now that you're out."

"Oh my God," said Rita. "You too!"

They smiled at each other as Elliot filled Olivia in on Rita's decision to testify. "Rita, thank you so much," said Olivia. "This is going to be so helpful. Has the state contacted you about the investigation?"

"No," said Rita. "I didn't even know it was going on until today. But I'd be happy to talk to them."

"Okay," said Olivia. "I'll have them get in touch with you. The more people who speak out about that awful place, the better."

"No problem. And thank you, Olivia. You had so much courage to go through what you did."

Elliot watched as tears formed in the corner of Olivia's eyes, her cheeks turning red. "Thank you, Rita," she said. "Without you, I may have never made it out of there."

When they were done talking, Olivia said, "Here, I'll walk you out."

Elliot stared gleefully at the ground as he waited for her to return, knowing that his actions had not been for her benefit alone, but not feeling a bit ashamed of luring her here for his own self-interest. He turned just in time to see her returning with Nick, Fin, and Amanda surrounding her, having just returned from an exhausting stake-out. "So glad you stopped in," said Nick, smiling shamelessly at her.

"Thanks, Nick," she said, turning to face him. She grabbed his hand in hers and said, "It's really good to see you."

Elliot's heart jumped into his throat, and he had a sudden urge to cut in and break up the love-fest. But he held back, reminding himself that this is what had gotten him into trouble to begin with. "Hey," said Nick. "We're all going out to the bar tonight, you want to come with? We can celebrate you getting your cast off."

She glanced at Elliot, and he made his face into a stone. "Sure," she said. "I'd love to."

He saw her chest rise and fall deeply, and she leaned in to whisper something in Nick's ear. Nick's face fell, and he was quiet for a few seconds before saying, "Sure. It's fine, Liv."

One by one, the detectives fell away from her side, and she returned to him. "Elliot," she said softly, resting her hand on his arm. "You can come with us."

He lowered his eyebrows at her, and suddenly he knew what she had whispered in Nick's ear. "No, that's okay, Liv. You go—have a good time."

She shook her head and said, "I don't want to go unless you come too."

He sighed and glanced away, and then peered into her eyes. "Well I guess in that case . . . I can't deny you your celebration."


	21. Chapter 21

_**Author's Comments: **__Oh I am so cruel. This is just gratuitous fluff, I'm afraid. But fun, nonetheless. _

**Too Close**

Chapter Twenty-One

Olivia sat at the farthest barstool from Elliot. She hadn't planned it that way. She had picked out a seat, and Nick and Munch and Fin had filled in around her, followed by Amanda, and finally, Elliot. She caught glimpses of him nursing a coke at the end of the bar when she wasn't answering a barrage of questions from the others.

As the night marched on, her head got lighter as the bar tab got heavier, Munch buying several rounds for her. "I think I might just buy this place," he said, after downing several shots of jagermeister. "I have to do _something_ after I retire."

"No way," said Nick. "You're really going to buy a bar?"  
"Don't listen to him," said Fin. "He's been talking 'bout this for years. Never done a thing to make it happen."

"Because I couldn't face the thought of leaving you guys," Munch said. "You're the closest thing to family I've got."

"Ah, no," said Fin. "Don't let him be drinking no more of them jagers. Next thing you know, he'll be huggin' on you and tellin' you how much he loves you, Nick."

Olivia chortled as she started on her third drink, or possibly her fourth, as she had lost count. Munch put an arm around Nick, causing Olivia to snort into a giggling fit, almost spitting out her drink.

"What's up with you, Liv?" chuckled Nick. "I don't think I've ever seen you this . . . frisky."

"I don't know," she said. "Just glad to be out of that cast, I guess. Feels like my leg is made of straw."

Olivia peeked around everyone else to glimpse Elliot sitting back on his stool, watching her longingly in the mirror behind the bar. She tried to get up to go visit with him, but Nick stood in her way, a special glint catching in his eye. She guessed it was the alcohol, but whatever it was, she was too wobbly to push past him. "Yeah," said Nick, leaning in to speak into her ear, "well you look great. I don't know if it's the cast, or maybe you've just had lots of time to rest, but you're glowing tonight."

He put his arm around her, and she knew this was drunk Nick talking, because sober Nick would never venture into this territory. She glanced into the mirror again and saw Elliot's hawk-eyes following Olivia and Nick's movements. She turned her attention back to Nick and slurred, "Thanks, Nick, but I think maybe it's time to go home."

Eyes squinted, he pushed a strand of hair away from her ear and brushed his lips against it saying, "Need a ride home?"

She glimpsed Elliot's hands balling into fists in the mirror, and half-smiled at Nick, saying, "No thanks, Nick. I'll catch a ride home with Amanda."

She stood unsteadily and staggered toward Amanda, and she could feel Elliot's gaze drilling into her, every wobbly step of the way. Like a stupid sailor, Nick followed her, and Elliot stood now, his biceps tensed. She opened her eyes wide as she met his gaze, and twisted her mouth in a silent warning to him.

He lowered his eyebrows at her, and a pit formed in her stomach as she prepared for the worst. But then she watched, dumbfounded, as he glared at her one last time and turned away, heading toward the bathroom. She stopped dead in her tracks, and then turned to Nick and said loudly, "Nick, I'll see you on Monday. I'm coming back in to talk to Captain Cragan then, anyway."

When he didn't say anything, just stood looking devastated, she said, "Goodnight, Nick," and turned away from him.

Following Elliot's path, she found him slouching next to the restroom, sulking. When he saw her coming, he stood tall and straightened his shirt. "Elliot," she said, noting the lines on his brooding forehead. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answered too quickly and with a hint of sarcasm. "Everything's great."

"Okay," she said, "Because I was getting ready to come down and talk to you, and you—"

"I what?" he said. "What did I do wrong this time?"

She sighed, preparing for the impending battle. He studied her face and softened his own, saying, "I'm sorry, Liv. I'm trying. But it's really hard for me to watch you living it up with the guys, and Nick getting all handsy with you." He rolled his eyes up to a corner of the hallway and said, "You know, maybe I should just leave."

She smiled at him, and he glanced down at her and said, "What?"

Still grinning, she said, "You just told me honestly what's going on with you without taking it out on me." She nodded. "I like that."

He tried to suppress a smile, but it crept onto his lips regardless. "Really?"

"Yeah," she said, hoisting her arm onto his shoulder. "And I noticed you didn't have anything to drink."

His smile turned sheepish, and Olivia found it completely irresistible in her tipsy state. "Unlike you," he said, notably amused.

Flashing her flirtiest look at him, she put her other arm around his neck and pressed into him. "And I like that you didn't pummel Nick's face."

Laughing deeply, he said, "Oh, you have no idea how tempting—"

Seeing a twinkle reappear in his eye, she took advantage of her own giddy condition and cut him off with her lips, which worked in heated kisses on his mouth. He pulled back, his breath a hot whisper on her face, and whispered, "Liv, I don't think we should do this right now. You're in no con—"

She shut him up with her mouth once again, planting it firmly on his and pressing him back into the wall with her body. She forced her tongue into his mouth, wrenching a moan from him, and she knew he wouldn't be able to resist. His muscles finally softened beneath her, and she pressed harder into him until he brought his arms around her, his solid hand spawning tingles in the center of her back.

Now his lips fed hungrily on hers, and she could feel him getting hard against her belly, and she wanted him right now. She pulled away from him and tugged on his arm, and he followed her willingly, even if confused. She slipped into the men's bathroom, and he stood wide-eyed in the doorway, shaking his head. She gave his arm one last yank, and he tripped into the room. She snuck around behind him and locked the door, sweating, wide-eyed, and ready to go.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Author's Comments: **__Oh how can I write this, knowing what's happening to Liv for real (ok, not for REAL real, but you know what I mean). Sigh. I have to keep reminding myself—"It's just a TV show. She's not really hurt." And then I watch footage of Mariska directing the "No More" PSA's, and I can breathe again, knowing she's okay, lol._

**Too Close**

Chapter Twenty-Two

Olivia backed Elliot against the door, crowding him into submission, and planted her hand firmly on his crotch. Elliot let out a hard breath, trying to get his thoughts together before testosterone took over completely. "Liv," he croaked, "I don't think this is a good idea—"

She put a finger over his lips to silence him, and said, "Don't think. Just follow my lead."

And then she was kissing him, so hard that his head smashed against the door behind him, and he closed his eyes, trying to relax and go with it. But his thoughts kept nagging at him, and he knew it wasn't right to take advantage of the situation, even if she was throwing herself on him. He broke his mouth apart from hers and exhaled, "Liv, you're not making this easy—"

"That's good," she said, her eyes narrowing, "because I'm trying to make it hard."

He chuckled, but genuine panic caused his chest to tighten as he tried to think of a way to talk her out of the bathroom without making her angry. He knew firsthand that rejection could be devastating, causing people to do irrational things, especially when drunk.

She began to massage his groin, causing his erection to grow into her hand, and she smiled triumphantly. He shut his eyes tight and groaned, willing himself to break away from her grasp, but unable to force his muscles to move. A hard knock on the door startled both of them, causing Olivia to freeze and Elliot to open his eyes wide.

"Go away!" Olivia yelled. "It's preoccupied."

"Shhh . . ." said Elliot. "You're not supposed to be in here, remember?"

A few seconds passed with no response, and Olivia unzipped his pants, working on the button next. He started to push her hands away when another loud knock on the door erupted, followed by a man's gruff voice saying, "Open up—this is a bouncer. You need to open it."

Elliot's stomach fell, but Olivia's wily smile grew wider, and she slurred, "We're going to the bathroom here. A little privacy? C'mon, geez."

"Liv—"

"Step away from the door," said the voice, and the door vibrated from pounding on the other side.

Elliot shoved Olivia backwards to protect her, and the door flew open just after he got her safely out of the way. Just as he turned to see an angry titan of a bald guy standing in the doorway, he heard Nick's voice saying, "Police, stop right there."

The bouncer put his hands up and said, "We didn't call—"

A cacophony of angry voices erupted in the hallway outside the bathroom, with several more familiar voices yelling out "Police," while other voices, presumably those of management and employees, protested about the unfairness of having police officers step in on the wrong side of the dispute.

With several enraged men lined up against the wall, Nick peeked into the bathroom and lowered his gun arm when he saw who was inside. "Aaah, man, what the hell are you guys doing?" Throwing his hands up, he said, "No, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Nick looked into the hallway now and said, "Don't go in there. False alarm."

Elliot dropped his head in his hand as he waited for the chaos to die down in the hallway. He looked over at Olivia, her eyes droopy from drunkenness, and sighed as he realized she was still smiling, apparently finding the entire scenario hilarious. He wondered what she was going to think in the morning.

He exited out into the hallway, and as he stepped into the ranks of his fellow detectives, he suddenly remembered that his zipper was still down from Olivia's prying fingers. He zipped it up as he passed a grinning Munch, and said, "Don't say a word."

Munch put up his hands, fingers spread wide apart, and kept his mouth shut. Amanda averted her eyes as Elliot and Olivia passed her, as if she might catch a glimpse of something she didn't want to see. Fin said as Elliot passed him, "Sorry, man. Someone complained that there was a woman in the men's bathroom, and they were concerned someone might be assaulting her. Nick thought the bouncer was just some guy trying to go after the woman in the bathroom, and-well, it all got fuckin' jacked up."

Nick was already back at the bar, drowning out the scenario with a shot. Two uniformed officers stood at the bar as well, waiting to talk to the guilty culprits. Elliot turned to check on Olivia, who staggered slowly toward him, and he prayed she didn't break out into a giggling fit. One of the policemen stepped forward and said, "Are you Stabler?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm really sorry, man. We weren't . . . I mean, we didn't do anything."

The officer looked like he was trying to suppress laughter as well, and he said, "I'm sorry, but the bar owner was pretty pissed. He doesn't want to cut you any slack—probably because you _are _cops."

"I understand," said Elliot. "We'll come with you—no need to—"

"Go ahead, cuff me," said Olivia, holding out her hands. "I've done this before. Four times. Or is it five? I've lost track."

"Liv—" Elliot said, shooting her a warning look.

"C'mon," she said, grinning while she ignored him. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the on-lookers."

She wasn't kidding about that—several bar attendees had gathered around, trying to get a peek at the scene playing out. Elliot pushed her hands down and said, "Don't listen to her, we'll go with you—"

"Phsh . . ." she said. "Let's give them what they want to see. C'mon, El, don't be such a—"

She swooned, and Elliot grabbed her under one arm in time to prevent her from dropping to the floor, while one of the cops got her under the other arm. They guided her out the door as she tried to find her feet and place them decisively back under her. The officer put a protective hand over her head as he placed her in the back of his cruiser, and Elliot slid in beside her, shaking his head.

The officers took them back to the precinct instead of Central Booking, and placed them in separate interrogation rooms. When the door to Elliot's room opened, he let out a minute's-worth of air as he recognized the face of the officer entering as someone from his past. "Jackson," he said. "How are you?"

"Stabler," said the officer, who had worked with Elliot in uniform nearly twenty years ago. "I heard you were in here, asked if I could be the one to talk to you."

"Thank God," said Elliot. "Is there anything you can do to make this thing go away? My partner—ex-partner, I mean—she was drunk, not to blame her or anything. Bottom line is, nothing happened. Not to say it wouldn't have—"

Pete Jackson laughed, and he said, "No problem, Stabler. I owe you one, remember?"

Elliot smirked, but he knew his old buddy was right. Elliot had rescued him from a potential drug possession charge in their younger years, when Jackson had smoked a joint on the street after hours. "Now, your partner—"

"Ex-partner," said Elliot.

"Whatever. She's a little intoxicated still. Don't know if they'll let her go the way she is, especially after the way she acted in front of the guys who arrested her."

"What if I promise to take her home and make sure she stays there?"

Jackson paused, and then said, "Alright, I'll see what I can do."

A half-hour later, Elliot was allowed to escort Olivia out of the precinct. She stumbled with eyelids half-closed past the front desk, and Elliot prayed that she didn't say anything. Pausing one last time before exiting, she turned to the desk clerk and held up one finger, saying, "I'll be back. Just kidding. You—have a good night, sir." Elliot whisked her out the door as she yelled over her shoulder, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Not wanting to put a wasted Olivia in the back seat of a fellow officer's car, Elliot called for a cab. He opened the back door for her, but instead of getting in, she stuck her face in his and said giddily, "Elliot Stabler, you are trouble." He held a hand against her head to keep her from hitting it on the door frame as she sat down. Then he sat next to her, and she leaned into him, putting all her weight on him. "You are . . . something else," she gasped. "You, yes you . . ."

When she stopped talking, he looked down to find her head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. Her breathing deepened, and he knew she was out for good when her body weighed heavily on him. Then he gave the taxi driver his own address, and took out his phone to text Amanda and let her know where they were going.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Author's Comments: **__Thirty-one days, twelve minutes until we find out what happens to Benson._

_ There will be one final chapter after this. Just couldn't wrap it all up in this one, not properly anyway._

**Too Close**

Chapter Twenty-Three

Olivia yawned, stretched, and opened her eyes before she realized she wasn't on Amanda's couch. Elliot's musky smell came to her from the pillow, and she sat up straight, alarmed. Elliot wasn't in the bed, but try as hard as she might, she couldn't remember if he had been last night.

Looking down at her own clothing for clues, she discovered one of Elliot's button-down shirts adorned her, with nothing but panties underneath. "Goddammit," she whispered through her teeth. "What the hell?"

It wasn't so much that she didn't want to end up in bed with Elliot. It was the fact that she was so trashed that she couldn't even remember it happening, and Elliot took advantage of the situation, whether he meant to or not. In fact, she was having a hard time remembering anything about last night. The last memory she had was of taking off after Elliot after rejecting an equally drunk Nick.

As she began to crawl out of bed, she brought her hands up to her pounding head and said, "Ow." Shuffling into the hallway, she kept her eyes closed as much as possible, trying to shut out the brilliant light.

She lurched to a stop against Elliot's solid figure in the hallway. Daring to open her eyes, she saw him smirking at her, and wanted to punch him. "How ya feeling?" he said, a little too smart-assed.

"Like I wanna puke," she said, precipitating his backward retreat a few feet. "El, why am I here?"

He folded his arms, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling. "Because you were passed out, and my place was closer."

She shot him knives with her glare, saying, "So what happened last night?"

His smirk did not disappear. "You mean in the bathroom? Or after that, when we got arrested?"

"Arrested? What?" Her mouth gaped open. "No, I mean after we came back here . . ."

Elliot's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, you mean you don't remember smarting off to the guys in the seventeenth?"

"No—wait, what did you say about the bathroom?" She shook her head, and then flashes of memories came at her like bullets. "Oh my God—"

"Yeah, that's—" Elliot said, nodding.

"Oh my—" she said, her mouth still open wide. "I need to sit down."

"Here, let me," he said, guiding her to the dining room table and helping her into a chair.

As he got her a drink of water from the kitchen sink, she plopped her head in her hands, trying to put together the details of the previous night. "Elliot, I can't remember what all happened," she said. "But I do remember being with you in the bathroom—was it the men's? And someone busted the door down, and there were uniformed officers. Was there a fight or something?"

"No, no fight," he said, dropping some ice cubes in her water. "Just a very inebriated group of detectives, with one plastered Olivia Benson leading the debauchery."

As she tried to recall the events of the night, Elliot brought her the water and sat down next to her. "What I want to know," he said, "is how much you remember about our talk, before the bathroom."

She took a small sip of water, the cool liquid sliding smoothly down the back of her parched throat. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture the scenario, and then it started to come to her. Nick hitting on her, Elliot's jealousy, her own panic as she watched him Elliot walk away. And when she confronted him, how he told her exactly how he felt, instead of punching a wall, or worse.

"You didn't over react," she said. A smile found its way into her heart, making its way to her lips. "And that's how we ended up in the bathroom."

Elliot chuckled, but Olivia's jubilance was short-lived. "But why did you take advantage of that, El?" she said, glaring at him again.

His eyes grew wide. "What? I didn't do anything—it was all you, Liv."

"All me?" Heat rose up from the center of her chest to her face. "You could have said no in the bathroom—and why did you bring me here instead of Amanda's? And what exactly did we do last night?"

Elliot nearly knocked the chair over as he shot out of it and began to pace. "I give up! You get drunk, and come onto me, and I do everything I can to avoid taking advantage of you, and now _I'm _the one in trouble."

Now she stood too, and her voice grew louder. "So then tell me, Elliot. What _did _happen?"

He turned to face her, his eyes boring into her. "I'll tell you what happened. Nothing. In the bathroom, I stood there while you groped me, trying to figure out a way to get out of there without disappointing you. That's when the bouncer broke down the door." She could not think of one thing to say in response, shame starting to make its way into her gut. "And once we got here, I put you in comfortable clothes, because you spilled a drink all over yourself, and you were wet. Nothing happened, Liv. I didn't do anything."

She stared at his eyebrows crowding together, and she knew he was telling the truth. He wouldn't take advantage of her, and he certainly wouldn't lie about such a thing. Being part of the rape police had taught him that lack of consent was assumed when a woman was inebriated. But as she looked into his eyes, she knew it was more than that. He had a respect for her that would never allow him to cross that line, not even when it would have been all too easy.

She looked away now, and realized that he had done all the right things last night, and said exactly what he should have, despite the fact that he had no assurances that he would be rewarded for his actions. Her eyes flashed to his face again, and she said, "I'm sorry, El. I shouldn't have thought you would do something like that. I guess I'm just hyper-vigilant, with everything I've gone through lately."

His face softened. "It's okay," he said. "To tell you the truth, I kind of liked seeing you having fun."

She smiled. "Was I really more fun?" she said. "I actually think it's kind of embarrassing. I don't usually—"

"I know you don't," he said, "And if it happened all the time, it might be a problem. But it's been so long since you've . . . been happy, I just like seeing you have a good time."

Her eyes burned, and she willed herself not to cry. "Yeah," she said. "For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can smile again. And it's so much better when I can share that with you."

Their eyes met, and now she did want to let go of her tears. Instead, she put her hand up to his cheek, allowing his gaze to dance around her face. Then she leaned forward and tentatively put her lips against his, working them around in a tender kiss. Pulling away, she said, "Well I'm not drunk now."

His face showed his understanding, and he put his arms around her, pulling her closer into him. "Elliot," she said, "I'm so glad it was you last night . . ." She cut her words short, not wanting to waste any more time that she could be spending locking her lips onto his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let go of all inhibitions, losing herself in his probing mouth.

She slid her hand down until it reached his ass, and grabbed a handful. He pressed himself into her, hard, in return. Sparks lit up in her abdomen and down her legs, and she tightened her lips on his, tasting toothpaste on his tongue.

Ripping herself away from him long enough to drag him into the bedroom, she wasted no time yanking off his robe and underwear, and he climbed eagerly on top of her. He teased her by carefully unfastening every button on the shirt she was wearing—his shirt, and she said, "C'mon, c'mon."

"Hey, it's an expensive shirt," he said, grinning. When he was done, he sat and stared for a few moments, admiring her bare breasts, and then took one in each hand, massaging gently at first, but increasing pressure until she groaned. When he ran his thumbs over each nipple, electricity zinged her all the way down into her thighs, and his hand moved along with the sensation to grab her soft folds and mop up the moisture from them with his fingers.

She took his hardness into her hand and stroked until he threw his head back, exhaling deeply. Urgency entered his eyes, and he slipped off her panties and climbed into position. She opened her legs to receive him, gasping when he thrust himself into her.

There was more than just plain animal lust in his eyes as he rocked within her—his eyes reflected back something else, something tender and full of awe, like he had not lived until he set eyes on her. Once again, tears threatened to brim over as she watched him watching her face while she leisurely accepted his repetitive pleasure-filled plunges. She closed her eyes and made herself into a receptacle for his loving strokes, feeling the tension growing as every nerve ending delighted in the swirls of air from his movement on top of her.

She calmly sighed while hairs stood on end and her muscles tensed, and he stroked her hair and watched her convulsing blissfully beneath him. He waited until she reached that peak to let loose his own juices inside her, with three final slow, deep thrusts that reached the limits of her body, intensifying her orgasm.

Exhausted, he collapsed on top of her, staying inside of her long after he went soft. But he kept his attention on her, stroking her hair and kissing her neck while she let the heat from their sex keep her enveloped in warmth. She swallowed and breathed in his sticky sweat-filled odor, enjoying the tickle of his hair against her cheek.

When he finally rolled off her, she held him like a child, one underneath him and wrapped around him, the other softly stroking his arm. He lay still, his head resting on her shoulder, sleep catching up to him. "I love you, Elliot Stabler," she whispered into his unhearing ear.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Author's Comments: **__Spoiler alert—"Fault". I'm assuming all of you have seen it._

_ Oh, and OMFG it's still 28 days away til "Surrender Benson"! WTF? I can't write at this pace forever—y'all will have to have patience with me while a take a brief hiatus. But I do have another story planned, and I think it'll be pretty freakin' good. Let me simmer it in my brain for a few days._

**Too Close**

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Liv, are you sure about this?" Captain Cragan's eyebrows lowered, but Olivia was absolutely certain of what she wanted at this point.

"Yeah," she said. "I want to come back now, and I would really like to stay in the same unit as Elliot."

"Oh, and how does he feel about it?"

She waited a beat before answering. "He doesn't know I'm asking—"

"Uh-huh," said the captain. "So how do you think he's going to take it if I approve this?"

She sat unblinking. "You'll have to ask him that, Sir."

"And you're ready?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," she said. "It . . . it hasn't been easy these last few months, but I want to come back to work."

Cragan hesitated, and then said, "Liv, you don't feel like hurting yourself anymore, do you?"

Icy chills ran down the back of her throat at the thought of what she had done just six weeks earlier. "No. I don't."

"Okay," he said, with the closest thing to a smile that she would ever see on his face. "Let me talk to Elliot, and I'll make my decision."

As Olivia strode out of Captain Cragan's office, she noticed Elliot's gaze following her with trepidation. "Elliot, I need to see you," said the captain.

Elliot stood as Olivia passed by him without saying a word or looking at him. She poured herself a cup of coffee as the captain's door clicked behind her. As she took a sip, she tried to keep her hand from shaking. '_Shaking, why?' _she thought. Could it be remnants of the PTSD? Or was she really that afraid of Elliot's reaction to her coming back?

It was true that she had not told him—she wanted this to be her decision alone. She had assumed he would be fine with it, especially after their make-up sessions lately, but what if he wasn't? They had run into this problem before—too close to be partners, but too enmeshed to work apart, and Cragan had nearly split them apart like a pair of Siamese twins. And that was _before _they had become lovers.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Cragan's door opening, and Elliot emerged looking as stoic as ever. Olivia shifted her feet as she tried not to act like she didn't notice him. Nick came from the other side of her and said, "Hey, Liv. How are you?"

Olivia blushed, remembering Friday night at the bar. Smiling at the images, but cringing at his blatant attempts to hit on her, she said, "I'm good," and then brought her lips tightly together.

"Good," he said, acting casual in the face of the awkwardness between them. "You coming back anytime soon?"

"Maybe," she said. "Still waiting to hear back from Captain Cragan."

"Ah," he said, nodding as he took a few sips from his cup. He smacked his lips and said, "Well, I hope you do come back."

"Thanks," she said, nodding back. Pointing a finger up and to the right, she said, "Well, I think I'm gonna—"

"Yeah, you do that—"

"—go check and see if there's anything in my locker—"

"Great, sounds good." He held up his cup. "I'll see ya around."

She hastily retreated, making a break for it to the locker room just to disappear for a while, only to startle when she realized Elliot was in it. His eyes grew wide, but his expression remained solemn. "Sorry for scaring you," he said.

"It's okay," she said. "You talked Cragan?"

"Yeah," he said, looking down at his duffle bag without offering more. Her chest clenched into a ball as she noticed he was packing items of clothing from his locker.

"And?" she said, taking several steps forward until she closed the distance between them.

He looked up at her, his mouth falling open. "And what?"

"Look, I'm sorry for not talking to you first," she said. "But what did you tell him?"

"I told him the truth," he said. "That you and I were too close to work together, and that our personal relationship was tumultuous at times, and if we were ever partners again, it would ruin us."

"Elliot—"

"But I told him we could work in the same unit together, and I would do everything in my power not to create drama in the workplace."

She let out a sigh. "But," said Elliot, "I also told him that I had no control over what you do, so I couldn't promise him that _you _wouldn't freak out at some point."

She punched him in the arm before allowing a laugh to escape her throat. "I know, 'cause I'm such a trouble-maker," she said, and he smiled now. "Can't take me anywhere . . . while I'm drunk, that is."

He stood tall and said, "Yeah, I can't guarantee that Friday night isn't going to come back to haunt you."

"I think it already has," she said. "Nick and I can't have a conversation anymore without squirming."

"Can you blame him?" grinned Elliot. "You being such a sexy lush and all."

She smiled back, not trying to be seductive but wondering if her expression was alluring anyhow. When he flattered her like this, she couldn't help but notice a certain glow about him, a glint of joy in his face that made him prime rib to her eyes. "Oh, yeah?" she said. "I didn't see you complaining about it, either."

His hand flashed up to her hair so fast she thought it must have been more like an impulse, but she didn't mind at all. They froze, staring at one another, as his hand began to massage the back of her neck. "No," he said, his voice seductive. "I wasn't complaining. Not that _you_ remember anyway."

"You better not have," she said, moving in closer until their faces were a breath away. She parted her lips invitingly, and he closed the remaining gap with his mouth on hers, sending sparkles into her chest that spread into her arms and belly and legs.

In the blur of breath-taking exchanges of touches and kisses over the next few seconds, their tongues and hands groped one another until he ended up with his hands under her shirt. She resisted the temptation of his hands grabbing excitedly at her breasts, pulling her head away from his long enough to whisper in one outward breath, "We probably shouldn't do this here."

"Where then?" he exhaled onto her neck. "The bathroom?"

She giggled. "No, Elliot."

"An interrogation room? The elevator?"

"Ha!" she said, kissing his ear between words. "I'll meet you at home."

The End

_Endnote: Oh, I know I know, no fair to end it there. You __**just got**__ a hot, steamy love-making scene! What do you want from me, lol?_


End file.
